


But He Took My Shoulders, and He Shook My Face

by CocoBadShip



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Bill Denbrough Loves Mike Hanlon, Boys In Love, Feelings Realization, Homophobia, M/M, Mike Hanlon Loves Bill Denbrough, Nightmares, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, The Losers Club Stay in Derry (IT), They Killed Pennywise The First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoBadShip/pseuds/CocoBadShip
Summary: Mike and Bill are friends; they’ve been friends for a few years, but it feels like even longer. Sometimes it feels like they’ve been friends for Mike’s whole life, or that they will be friends for the rest of Mike’s life. Bill is Mike’s best friend, if he’s being honest. Mike doesn’t think he’s had a friend understand him the way Bill does.Mike and Bill are friends. So, why couldn’t Mike just say that?
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Behold this tale of nerdy, traumatized boys having feelings for one another and proceeding to wreck their own lives. 
> 
> The goal is a chapter every few days. Hope you all enjoy ☺️☺️☺️

“Michael Hanlon! Are you in here, young man?”

The sound of his grandfather’s voice sends a jolt to Mike’s stomach. He glances at his clock: it’s 4:36 p.m. He should’ve already been down; he knew his grandfather and uncles were coming back from the market at around this time. 

Mike will have to blame the copy of _Bridge of Terabithia_ Bill loaned him for making him forget. 

“Yes sir!” Mike yells down. “I’m coming!” 

He drops the book onto his bed and hurries out of his room, taking the stairs two at a time. Mike rounds the corner and sees his grandfather standing in the dining room, watching him expectantly while his uncles bring bags into the kitchen. 

“Ready to report, son?” 

Mike sighs fondly. That’s Leroy Hanlon for you; a man of discipline, his years of military service still evident in his stance. 

“Yes sir,” Mike says, and he takes his place in front of his grandfather. 

Leroy pulls his small notebook from his pocket and peers down at the list. 

“ _All_ your schoolwork is done?” he asks. “All of the packets?” 

Mike nods. “Yes, sir. I lost some brain cells, but they’re done.” 

Leroy chuckles and shakes his head. “You are a fool. Did you clean up the chicken coup?”

Mike turns his nose up at the memory but nods. “Yes sir. _And_ the sheeps’ den.” 

“Thank you,” Leroy says in surprise. “I was gonna do that later on. Did you check out that gate towards the back?” 

“Yep. It just needed another screw.” 

Leroy nods, then he looks up and peers around Mike. 

“And are there any hooligans, hoodlums or troublemakers hiding in my house?” he calls loudly, making a show of peering around Mike.

Mike laughs and shakes his head. “No, sir. I imagine they all went home after school today.”

Leroy looks at Mike with narrowed eyes. 

“There’s no telling with those kids, though,” he says. “Especially not that Bill character. He seems to think he lives here with you.” 

His grandfather can pretend he doesn’t like the Losers all he wants, but Mike knows better.

“They’re not here,” Mike says. “I’m all by my lonesome.”

Leroy slides his notebook back into his pocket and clasps Mike on the shoulder. 

“Good man,” he says. “Now, help your uncles. They’re always back here struggling.”

Mike chuckles as his uncle Howard makes a loud noise of protest.

“Hey!” Howard says. “We wouldn’t be struggling if you two would just help us out a little!”

“We’re coming to help you now!” Leroy says. He nods towards Mike. “Let’s go, your uncles are starting to whine.”

Mike follows his grandfather outside to the truck and picks up heavy bags of meat, fruits and vegetables. Leroy grabs his toolkits while Howard and Mike’s uncle Phillip start bickering over who’s carrying the new propane tanks and hoses. 

“Put it _down_ ,” Howard is saying. “I got it!”

“You ‘had it’ at the store and almost dropped them both,” Phillip says. “Move outta the way.”

Leroy tut-tuts at them and shakes his head.

“I am getting too damn old to be dealing with _this,_ ” he mutters in Mike’s ear.

It takes everything in Mike not to laugh aloud. 

Several minutes and arguments later, everything is packed away, and Mike is washing up to help with dinner. Mike’s on vegetable-chopping duty while Leroy begins to brown the meat for beef stew.

“If you two are gonna stay and eat, you gotta wash your hands and shut your mouths,” Leroy tells Howard and Phillip. “Otherwise, go home.” 

Howard and Phillip both grumble but do what they’re told, walking to the bathroom down the hall so as to avoid Leroy and Mike in the kitchen. When they’re out of earshot, Mike turns to his grandfather.

“Um, Granddad? Do you mind if I go out with my friends tomorrow? After my chores?”

Leroy scoffs. “I mean, is that really a question? You spend every weekend either leaving with them or bringing them _here._ ” 

Mike laughs with chagrin. The farmhouse has kind of become the unofficial new hangout spot for the Losers over the past couple of years. Right around the time Mike turned 16, he started taking more responsibilities on the farm and spending less time with the other Losers. His friends decided to fix that by simply following Mike around the farm whenever they could. Mike sometimes thinks they spend more time here than they do at the clubhouse. 

“It doesn’t hurt to ask?” Mike tries. 

Leroy watches him for a moment, then chuckles. 

“Yes, you can go out with your friends,” he says. “And they’re always welcomed here. As long as Richie doesn’t bother the sheep anymore.”

Mike barks out a laugh. “I think he’s still scared from what happened last time.”

“Good for him,” Leroy says. “Because I’m pretty sure the sheep still remember him.” 

Mike rolls his eyes as he thinks of his friend.

“I’m sure they do.”

##

Later that night, after dinner has been eaten and Howard and Phillip have been sent home, Mike hops back into bed and finishes reading _Bridge of Terabithia._ Bill had told him he’d get it through it quickly.

“It seems like your type of thing, Mikey,” Bill had said when he handed Mike the book. 

Of course Bill was right. Bill’s never steered Mike wrong before. Not on book suggestions or anything else, for that matter. 

Mike puts the book on his bedside table as he slips underneath the covers. He’s got to remember to return it to Bill when he sees him tomorrow. Maybe Bill will have another book suggestion for him, or maybe Mike and Bill can convince the Losers to tag along to the library with them. 

Mike imagines how annoyed the others would be at them and smiles to himself. He thinks of Bill and his endless books as he drifts off to sleep. 

He’s ready for tomorrow to come. 


	2. Chapter 2

Bill hears his parents arguing before he even fully wakes up. 

He sits up in bed with a heavy groan. Bill's parents are _shouting,_ their voices burning hot. Bill’s disoriented; he can’t even remember what day it is, let alone what time it is. The din his parents are causing it is only making him feel more confused. 

Bill’s wits come back to him. It’s Saturday. He looks over to the clock by his bed and sees that it’s 9:35 in the morning. 

The realization makes Bill smile. Mike’s going to call soon. 

It’s a routine Bill and Mike have established over the past couple of years. Every Saturday morning, Bill gets out of bed, washes his face and brushes his teeth, gets dressed, and then sits by his phone. Without fail, the phone rings just a few minutes later, and Mike’s voice floats through the receiver, asking Bill what they should do today. It usually takes a few minutes, but they always figure it out. Mike hangs up with a “See you soon, Bill!” and Bill goes and picks up the rest of the Losers. 

Mike’s Saturday morning phone calls are the most consistent thing in Bill’s life. 

Today is no exception: the phone rings just as Bill sits back down on his bed. The only difference about today is the fact his parents decided to start arguing before the day had even gotten started. 

Bill sighs as his parents’ angry, muffled voices slip through Bill’s cracked door and mingle with the phone’s loud ringing. He doesn’t even know what they’re arguing about today. 

Bill quickly stands and yanks his door shut before turning around and answering the phone. He doesn’t want Mike to think he’s missing his call. 

“Hey, M-Mikey.”

“Hey, Bill. How are you?”

Just hearing Mike’s voice makes Bill feel better. It helps Bill block out the sound of his parents squabbling in the background.

“I’m good. You?”

Bill can hear Mike’s smile as he answers.

“Good as always. I finished the book last night.”

“Oh! D-did you like it?”

“Yeah, I did,” Mike sighs. “It was really heavy, and it kinda made me cry, but I liked it. Thanks for lending it to me.”

Bill feels warm all over. He takes great pride in knowing exactly what Mike would be into. 

“Maybe we could get m-more books today,” Bill says. “If we can get everyone else to come along, I m-mean.”

Mike chuckles. The sound reminds Bill of the thunder accompanying approaching storm clouds. 

“You read my mind,” Mike says. “I was thinking that exact same thing last night.” 

That’s not all that surprising; Mike always seems to know what Bill is thinking. 

“Okay! I’ll get everyone and meet you there?” 

Mike sounds bright and happy as he answers. “Sounds like a plan! See ya in a little bit!”

Bill hangs up and shoves his feet into his shoes. He rushes down the stairs to Silver, putting as much distance between himself and his parents and their problems as quickly as he can. 

###

“I can’t believe you _nerds_ are dragging us to the library on a _Saturday_!” 

Mike scoffs at Richie’s loud complaints. They’re right near the front steps of the library, having haphazardly dumped their bikes in the bike rack on the side of the building. Mike doesn’t know why Richie’s acting like this is the first weekend library trip they’ve taken together. 

“You say ‘nerd’ like you’re not the type of person who’d spend all day at the arcade,” Mike retorts. 

“That’s _different!_ ” Richie squawks. He looks around at everyone for support. “It’s different, right?” 

“Not really,” Ben says. “Videogames _are_ pretty nerdy, Rich.” 

“Especially the space ones,” Stan says with a shrug. 

Richie glares at them. “ _Really_?”

“Yes, really,” Bev says with a laugh. She nods her head towards Mike and Bill. “Besides, these two are probably doing you a favor, considering you’re failing history. You should definitely be reading more.” 

Richie gasps dramatically and looks over to Eddie.

“Did you tell her that?” Richie demands. “You’d _betray me_ like this, Edward?” 

“Fuck off! _I_ didn’t tell anyone anything!” Eddie says, his voice coming out an octave higher than usual. “She probably figured it out from the way you run your damn mouth! And even if I _did_ say anything, it’d only be because I was trying to make sure you actually pass and make it to senior year, jackass!” 

“Oh, because you’re _so helpful—!”_

Mike and Bill share a look as Eddie and Richie launch into one of their epic back-and-forths. Sometimes hanging out with those two doesn’t seem all that different from corralling the baby goats into their pen. 

“Okay, we’re gonna go in now,” Bill announces loudly, “while you guys stay out here . . .”

Richie and Eddie don’t even look up as the rest of the Losers walk into the library. Ben nudges Mike as the doors close behind them.

“So, when should I go back out and get them?” he asks. 

Mike looks down at his watch. “Give ‘em about twenty minutes. They’ll be done by then.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bev tells Ben. “Since things got a little outta hand last time.”

Mike and Stan laugh, and Bill shakes his head. Yep, just a part of a normal Saturday. 

They all drift off in different directions, with Mike and Bill heading towards the horror novels, Stan wandering towards the books about nature, and Bev and Bill going to sit and waste time until they have to wrangle Richie and Eddie. 

“You’d think they get b-bored with arguing,” Bill says as he and Mike dawdle down the aisle. “I’m surprised they haven’t run out of things to argue about.” 

Mike hums as he drags his fingers across the books’ spines. 

“You know those two. I think they wouldn’t know what to do if they _weren’t_ arguing,” Mike says. 

Bill shrugs. “Yeah. At least you can tell they actually c-c-care about each other.”

Mike slows to a stop. Something’s wrong. Mike can hear it in Bill’s voice. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Bill stops and turns towards Mike, but he won’t look directly at him. Instead, Bill starts blinking and looking at the books beside them. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Bill mumbles. “It’s just . . . I don’t know, my p-parents were at it again this morning . . .”

Mike feels a flash of anger at the mention of Bill’s parents. As far as Mike can tell, Bill’s parents are either ignoring him and moving around their house like ghosts, or they’re yelling and shouting and racking Bill’s nerves. Mike hates it. 

“You know, you can always come over if you need to get away,” Mike says. “I’m always willing to sneak you past my granddad.” 

Bill looks Mike in the face and smiles. “I don’t think it’s possible to s-s- _sneak_ past your granddad. But thanks, Mikey.” 

“Anytime,” Mike says, glad that he can make Bill smile a little. 

They continue their stroll down the aisle. After a few more steps, a book catches Bill’s eyes.

“Oh!” he says, pulling it from the shelf. “I think you’d l-like this one.”

Mike takes the book from Bill: _Something Wicked This Way Comes._ Mike finds himself intrigued by the dark figure, green smoke and distorted image of a horse on the cover. 

“It’s about two best friends who end up at an evil carnival,” Bill says. 

“Sounds intense,” Mike says. “Looks intense, too.”

“Yeah, it is,” Bill says. “But I think you’ll like it. You’re b-brave.” 

Mike laughs. “Yeah, but I learned that from you.”

Bill ducks his head, but Mike can still see his smile.

“You totally didn’t. But okay.” 

Mike just smiles as he takes in Bill’s demure expression. He can think of a list of ways Bill has made him feel braver than he is. 

“I don’t see how you guys can read that stuff.”

Mike and Bill both startle at the sound of Stan’s voice. Stan’s standing behind them, looking at the books with disapproval written all over his face.

“You’re gonna give yourselves nightmares reading this junk,” Stan admonishes. 

Bill shrugs. “It’s interesting. It helps my writing.”

Mike glances down at the book’s cover again. It’s creepy, sure, but Mike knows they’ve all experienced far scarier things. Two years have done very little to make them forget it. 

“Plus, it’s not worse than the real thing,” Mike mutters. “We already know what _that’s_ like.” 

“All the more reason to _not_ read it,” Stan says. “You’re basically inviting the bad things back into your lives.” 

Before Mike and Bill can defend themselves more, Ben comes lumbering up behind Stan, Eddie shuffling close behind him.

“What’re we talking about?” Ben asks. 

“Bill and Mike giving themselves nightmares by reading this stuff,” Stan says, glaring at the book in Mike’s hand. 

Eddie scoffs. “I don’t know _why_ you guys are gluttons for punishment or whatever, but keep that shit far away from me!” 

Mike rolls his eyes. He loves his friends, but they’re so dramatic sometimes. 

“I’m just glad you and Richie kissed and made up,” Mike says sweetly. 

That earns a laugh from Bill, Stan and Ben, but Eddie turns bright red. 

“We did _not!_ ” Eddie says. Then, he stammers, “Well, I mean—Richie’s still a _dumb ass_ —he—you know what I mean! 

Ben tosses an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay! We know what you mean,” he says with a laugh. 

Eddie scowls and squirms out of Ben’s grasp. 

“Can we _go now_?” Eddie asks, sounding dangerously close to whiny. 

Before any of them can say anything, Eddie walks away, his arms crossed tightly. 

“What’s up with him?” Stan asks as they watch Eddie storm off. 

Ben shrugs. “Don’t know. Him and Richie are both being weird today.” 

Stan grimaces as he and Ben start to follow Eddie. 

“Weirder than usual?” Stan asks as they go. “Jeez.” 

Mike watches Stan and Ben disappear around a corner. He and Bill are suddenly alone again. 

“Wonder what _that’s_ about,” Mike says. 

“I hope they’re al-r-right,” Bill says. 

Mike frowns at Bill’s tone. He sounds _off_ again. 

“Are _you_ alright?” 

Bill smiles. “You asked me that already.”

“And I’m asking again,” Mike says as gently as he can. “So . . .”

“ _So_ , I’m okay. I p-promise,” Bill says. 

Mike studies Bill for a moment. He can’t ever think of a time when Bill lied to him about anything, and he doesn’t think Bill would start now. But there’s still _something_ up. Mike can look at Bill and tell there is. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Mike asks. “Anything at all.” 

Bill smiles a little wider this time.

“Yeah, I kn-know. And you can tell me anything, too.” 

_Then please tell me what’s going on,_ Mike thinks. Mike can’t decide if he should push it or if pushing it will only make Bill tell him less. 

But Bill doesn’t give him the opportunity to decide. He nudges Mike’s arm and slowly starts to walk in the same direction Stan, Ben and Eddie had taken off in. 

“You ready to go?” 

Mike nods. It’s hesitant, but he nods.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

###

They do very little for the rest of the day, which Mike is grateful for. 

They lounge around at the quarry until the sun starts to sink in the sky. Richie and Eddie eventually start to act more like themselves, although Eddie remains a little uptight. Ben tells a bunch of corny jokes that Bev teases him for. Stan and Bill get into good-natured debates about everything from their math classes to that one poem they had to annotate in English. 

And Mike lies there watching them, his eyes falling on Bill more than a few times, still trying to figure out what exactly is going on in that mind of his.


	3. Chapter 3

Bill feels odd.

He contemplates the feeling as he bikes home, speeding past the streetlights as they come to life. It’s late in the evening; summer is obviously approaching, if the slow-emerging sunset is any indication. Bill’s spent hours with his friends today, and this strange feeling has lingered for almost the entire time. 

Bill can hardly describe the feeling, really. He feels _unsettled_ , or maybe off-balance is the word. It’s like he’s walking around with only one shoe on, or that one of Silver’s tires is going flat. 

Bill’s trying to trace it to its source. Was it something someone said at the quarry? Or on the way to the quarry? No, that’s not right. 

The sky is a mesmerizing mix of brilliant orange and deep purple by the time Bill pulls up to his house. His parents aren’t home: neither car is in the driveway. All the same, Bill thinks. They aren’t here even when they are. 

Bill carefully puts Silver away before taking himself to the kitchen. He makes himself a sandwich, but he barely pays attention to his own motions. Bill’s still trying to figure out what this feeling is. 

It must’ve started at the library, Bill decides as he walks to his room with his sandwich and a can of soda. It’s probably Richie and Eddie’s fault. Bill’s used to their arguments. How could he not be, when they’ve been going at each other for their entire lives at this point? 

Something about them did feel _different_ , though. A little snippier than usual, a little more cagey. Maybe they bothered Bill more than he realized. Bill wonders if anyone noticed his weird mood. 

_Mike noticed._

Bill plops down on his bed and takes a big bite of his sandwich as he thinks of Mike. He remembers how concerned Mike looked. Bill didn’t lie to Mike today. Or, he didn’t _mean_ to lie to Mike; he meant it when he said he was okay. But of course Mike noticed something was up; Bill thinks Mike can see right through him most of the time. It sometimes feels like Mike knows Bill better than Bill does. 

Bill thinks it’s nice to have someone who knows him so well. But it’s also inconvenient. 

Bill practically inhales the rest of his sandwich and downs his soda. He has half a mind to actually call Mike and just talk until things make sense. But that’s a bad idea, isn’t it? Mike isn’t going to want to talk to Bill; he just saw him for _hours_ today. Bill shouldn’t bother Mike right now. 

Bill hears a car pulling up outside. He hops off his bed and peers through his window. The sky is dark now, and he can see his dad slamming his car door and walking to the front door. Well, at least one of his parents is home. 

Bill haphazardly puts his plate and soda can on the floor besides his bed. He shucks off his clothes from the day and pulls on his ratty t-shirt and pajama bottoms. 

It’s way too early for Bill to go to sleep. He should probably finish his homework or do some writing. But he’s tired, and he’d rather be asleep when his mom comes home. 

So, Bill sinks into his bed and yanks the covers over his head. He lets the muffled sound of his own heartbeat lull him to sleep. 

###

Mike is quiet during dinner tonight. 

Phillip goes home, leaving Mike with Leroy and Howard. Mike’s grandfather and uncle chatter about chores, stock prices, those rumors they’ve heard about the failing farmer a few counties over.

Mike’s only half listening. His mind is still at the library—with Bill. He should probably stop harping on it, but Mike’s still wondering what was actually wrong with Bill. Bill had mentioned his parents, but he obviously didn’t want to say anything else about it. Mike knows Bill doesn’t like to talk about the stuff that goes on at home sometimes. He gets that. He just wishes that Bill would be more open about it. 

“ _Hellooo?_ Mike? You still with us, son?”

Leroy’s voice yanks Mike from the rabbit hole he was tumbling down. Mike nods and flashes his grandfather a smile. 

“Yes, sir. I was—I was just thinking. That’s all.”

Leroy and Howard glance at each other. Then Leroy just shrugs. 

“Well, think away, I suppose,” Leroy says, and he continues his conversation with Howard as if nothing’s happened. 

Mike laughs, but he sits up straighter and forces himself to listen this time. 

There’s no need for Mike to drift off into space like that, especially not in front of his family. 

###

After dinner, Mike volunteers to help Leroy wash dishes while Howard slumps on the couch. 

“I swear you’re the only one who does any work around here nowadays,” Leroy whispers to him, and Mike grins. 

They talk while they work, with Mike trying to make up for his distance during dinner. Leroy eventually asks Mike if he and the Losers actually got anything from the library, and Mike tells him about the new book Bill recommended. 

Leroy listens with a look of mild horror. 

“Are you sure you should be reading stuff like that?” Leroy asks. “I mean, didn’t you just read a book where the character’s best friend drowns or something?” 

Leroy’s face looks just like the disturbed expression Stan gave them earlier. Mike can’t help but laugh a little. It’s kind of funny, all things considered. 

“It’s _fine_ , Granddad,” Mike says. “Bill and I always read these books.”

Leroy looks at Mike skeptically. “I don’t know about this, grandson. Seems kinda weird to me.”

Before Mike can say anything, he hears Howard snort from the couch.

“Yeah, _that’s_ what’s weird about him and that boy . . .” Howard grumbles. 

Mike goes tense, and he feels a pain in his stomach. 

“What was that?” Mike asks. 

Leroy shoots Mike a look but doesn’t say anything. Howard twists around on the couch and looks at Mike with a look of fake innocence. It only makes Mike feel even more irritated. 

“I don’t mean nothing by it,” Howard says with a shrug. “I just know _I_ never hung out with any of my friends like you hang out with Bill. Not even my best friend.” 

Mike’s face starts to go hot, and that pain in his stomach feels like it’s spreading to his chest. He can’t even really pinpoint _why_ he’s getting so upset, but something about Howard’s words and voice is making Mike feel flustered and agitated. 

Leroy clears his throat. Mike looks over to his grandfather and realizes that Leroy can probably tell that he’s getting angry. 

“Well,” Leroy says, “I think that says more about _you_ than Mike, Howard.” 

Howard’s face falls into a picture of a pout and flared nostrils. Mike has to literally bite down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something rude. 

Howard turns back to the TV, muttering something neither Mike or Leroy can quite catch. Mike turns around and starts drying dishes. He can feel his grandfather staring at his back. 

Mike decides to ignore them both. 

###

_It’s freezing cold._

_Cold air creeps up Bill’s arms, mercilessly whipping around his neck and face. A blast of air hits Bill and he shivers. Why is it so_ _cold_ _in here?_

_Bill’s eyes are still closed. He’s trying to open them, but they’re so_ _heavy._ _His face twitches thanks to the oddly frigid air. He’s cold, he’s so, so cold_ _._

_He reaches down for a blanket, his sheets, something to cover. But—there’s nothing. Bill’s hands are groping through frosty air, touching nothing at all._

_What is going on? Bill needs to open his eyes, he needs to_ _see._

_Painfully, slowly, Bill pries his eyes open. And his heart stops._

_He’s on a Ferris wheel, the thick metal bar clamped over his stomach. Bill’s legs dangle underneath him. He peers down; he’s at the very top, 400 feet above the ground._

_Bill opens his mouth. He tries to scream, but his throat goes tight. No sound escapes him, and he can barely breathe._

_“_ _Bill!_ _”_

_Bill peers down again. There, far, far, far below him is Mike, shouting his name. There’s no reason Bill should be able to hear him from this far up, but Mike’s voice rings in his ears clear as a bell._

_“Mike . . .” his name is painful to say, but Bill forces it out, anyway. “_ _Mike!_ _”_

_Mike’s calling to Bill from the booth. Bill can see him pulling on a lever, trying to make the Ferris wheel move._

_“I’m gonna get you down!” Mike yells, and his words bounce around Bill’s head._

_This makes no sense, none at all, but Bill manages to nod._

_Mike fiddles with the lever, and the Ferris wheel begins to move. Bill moves closer to the ground, closer to Mike_ _._ _The terror begins to subside; he might be okay._

_But then it jerks to a stop, and the metal bar slams against Bill’s slight frame, knocking the breath out of him._

_Mike screams—abrupt, bloodcurdling, horrifying._

_Bill looks up, frantic._

_“Mike?!_ _”_

_Mike stumbles out of the control booth, tripping over his feet as he backs away. There’s_ _blood_ _: blood on Mike’s hands, up and down his arms. And a huge blood stain spreading across his chest._

_Bill pushes against the bar, rattling and shaking it. He needs to_ _get out_ _of this! He needs to help Mike!_

_But the more Bill struggles, the more he pushes and pushes and pushes, the tighter the bar becomes. It presses into Bill’s chest. Bill can’t breathe. He can barely even move._

_Bill looks down at Mike. even from this height, he can see Mike staring up at him._

_“Mike . . .”_

_Mike stares, blood pouring down his front. Then, his eyes go empty._

###

“ _Mike!_ ” 

Bill sits up fast, shaking and gasping for air. His heart is beating out of control, and it _hurts._ Bill feels dizzy; he can barely understand what’s happening.

Bill’s eyes dart around. Bedroom—Bill’s in his bedroom. He’s in bed. He was asleep and now he’s awake. Okay. 

Bill looks over to his alarm clock: 11:36 p.m. 

_Mike._

The dream comes rushing back, and Bill’s petrified all over again. Mike was . . . _no._ What if that means something? Is _It_ back? Is Mike in danger? 

Has something already happened to him?

Bill’s thoughts begin to race, and he becomes so anxious and scared that he picks up the phone and dials Mike’s number without a second thought. Bill needs to know that Mike’s okay. 

It’s only as the phone rings that Bill realizes this is a terrible idea. _It_ is dead, Mike is _not._ It’s late; not only is Mike probably asleep, but so is his grandfather. Mike has a phone in his bedroom, sure, but what if his grandfather hears it ringing, too? Bill could get Mike in trouble on top of disturbing him. 

Bill should just hang up. It’s just a nightmare, like one of the _many_ nightmares Bill still has. He should just hang up and—

“Hello?”

Mike’s voice is raspy and soft around the edges. Bill forgets how to talk. 

“ _Hello?_ ” Mike sounds anxious, too. “Who is this?” 

“Mike—I’m sorry,” Bill finally manages. “It’s B-Bill.”

“Bill?” Bill can hear Mike moving around. He doesn’t sound any less anxious. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” 

“. . . I’m sorry.”

Bill closes his eyes, squeezing them as if that’ll block out the humiliation he feels. He’s making this _worse._

“ _Bill_ ,” Mike says firmly, prompting Bill to open his eyes again. “What’s going on? Are you _okay?_ What happened?”

“It was a n-nightmare.” Bill’s voice is small. He clears his throat and tries again. “It was a nightmare. A pretty bad one. And it made me worried about you, so I just—”

“Wait,” Mike says, “you were worried about _me?_ ”

Bill’s cheeks burn. It feels shameful, somehow, to admit that he dreamed of Mike’s death.

“Yeah. The dream was about you,” Bill says quietly. “And I needed to m-make sure you were okay.”

Mike’s quiet. He probably has a bunch of questions. Or maybe he’s thinking of the best way to tell Bill to fuck off and leave him alone. Bill bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from sputtering out another apology or from rambling about the details of the dream and what Bill saw and what that must mean. 

“I’m okay,” Mike eventually says. “I’m okay, but . . .”

Bill gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. “But what?” 

“But, I want to _see_ you,” Mike answers. “Make sure _you’re_ okay.” 

That is _not_ what Bill was expecting to hear. 

“Really?” 

Bill hears Mike move around again. 

“Yeah,” Mike says. “But, I mean, it’s dark out, so I get if you don’t want to come over.”

“No, n-no, I _do_.” Bill kicks the covers off of him. “You still want to try to s-sneak me past your granddad, though?” 

Mike laughs. His voice still sounds rough, but he’s wide awake now. 

“Now’s a good time to try, right?” 

“R-right!” Bill jumps out of bed, suddenly breathless. “I’ll see you soon!” 

They hang up, and Bill hops out of bed. He snatches his pajamas off and pulls his real clothes back on, shoving his latchkey and watch into his pocket. He’s jittery as he moves, his hands shaking. Bill blames his bad nerves. 

He creeps down the stairs, careful to step over the ones that creak. Once he’s made it, he grabs Silver and rides away into the night. 


	4. Chapter 4

This is the worst good idea Mike’s ever had. 

Mike hadn’t been lying when he said he’d always be willing to sneak Bill past Leroy. The problem is that Mike’s never had to actually _do it_ before. 

Part of Mike thinks it shouldn’t be that hard. Leroy’s a heavy sleeper, mostly because he works himself to exhaustion almost every day. _But,_ Leroy seems to have eyes in the back of his head and an extra set of ears. Howard and Phillip are always talking about how they and Mike’s dad could never get away with _anything._ Why would Mike be any different? 

Mike glances at the clock on his dresser: it’s been about 30 minutes since Bill called, which means Bill will be outside soon. 

Mike walks to his bedroom door as slowly and quietly as possible. He pokes his head out and looks at his grandfather’s room. His door is closed, and when Mike listens carefully, he can hear the muffled sounds of late night television. Okay. Mike should be good to go. 

Mike picks up his shoes and walks out of his room. He carries his shoes in his hand until he makes it down the stairs. As it turns out, walking around in only socks decreases his chances of making noise on the hardwood floor. 

Mike quickly puts his shoes on and leaves through the back door. The front door creaks far too loudly for Mike to walk out of it right now. 

Bill Denbrough sure is lucky Mike likes him so much. 

Mike thinks about the phone call as he gently pushes the back door close. He feels most people would’ve just told Bill that they were okay and they could see him in the morning. But nope, not Mike. Mike heard how scared Bill sounded and his mind immediately jumped to, _Come here, I need to see you. I need to be near you to make sure you’re okay._

Mike’s not like most people. None of the Losers are. They can’t afford to be, not after what they went through. 

A shiver goes down Mike’s spine. Bill didn’t say anything about the clown. He only said he had a nightmare, and that the nightmare made him worried for Mike. If _It_ was back, Bill would’ve told Mike. But still. What kind of nightmare— _about Mike_ , no less—was so bad that Bill’s more than willing to ride out to the farm in the dead of night? 

Mike hears something approaching him: the soft, unmistakable spinning of Silver’s tires. Bill emerges from the night like a phantom, his dark hair shining under the moon’s glow. 

Bill rides right up to Mike, stopping himself by putting a foot on the ground. He’s wide-eyed and sweaty. It’s past midnight, and the warmth of the day has given way to a chilly breeze, but Bill’s face looks as if he’s been running in 90 degree heat. 

“Hi,” Bill says, his voice small. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a nervous movement. “Can I—can I come in?” 

Mike blinks. “Um . . . ” 

Mike looks back behind him towards the house, craning his neck so that he can look at his grandfather’s window. No lights on, no noise coming from the house. They could go in and go to Mike’s room, but Mike gets the feeling Leroy will hear them somehow. Maybe they could stay in the living room? But they might make a noise and make Leroy come downstairs . . .

An idea hits Mike out of the blue.

“Come with me,” Mike says, gently touching Bill’s arm.

Bill stiffens for a fraction of a second. Then he nods.

###

They have a barn they hardly ever use. It sits way towards the back of the property, and it’s empty save for giant bales of hay and two huge, overstuffed couches Phillip left in there a couple of years ago. He’d meant to sell them one day but never got around to it. 

Mike flips the lightswitch, bathing them in pale orange light. They settle on one of the couches, letting themselves get comfortable. They have time; Leroy doesn’t usually get up until around 8:30 on Sunday mornings and doesn’t coax Mike out of bed until almost 10 a.m. It’s Leroy’s version of “sleeping in.” Something about God resting on the seventh day. 

Bill hugs his knees to his chest as he recounts the dream. He speaks slowly, careful to not trip over any words or miss any details. Bill keeps looking up at Mike with that scared look in his eyes. 

Mike listens and tries to stay calm. He doesn’t want Bill to know he’s freaking out, that he’s got goosebumps down both his arms. Again, Bill doesn’t mention the clown, but the clown is never too far from Mike’s mind. _It_ floats into his mind’s eye now, snarling and grinning as Bill hesitantly describes the blood his nightmare conjured. 

When he’s done, Bill’s eyes dance around Mike’s face like he’s trying to search through Mike’s thoughts. Mike takes a deep breath to settle his nerves. 

“I think Stan was right about us giving ourselves nightmares,” he says. 

Bill laughs, looking surprised at himself. 

“Yeah, p-probably. But we can’t ever tell him that.” 

Mike grins. “No, no, of course not. We take that to our graves.” 

They’re quiet for a few moments after that. Mike finds himself closing his eyes while his fingers fiddle with pieces of hay. It’s a nice silence; it’s comfortable here in the dark, sitting right across from Bill. It probably shouldn’t be, considering the circumstances. But it’s nice. 

“I, um,” Bill says, softly breaking the silence. “I don’t know what it was s-supposed to mean. It wasn’t like . . . other ones I’ve h-had. About P-P-Pennywise, I mean. But . . . I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Mike opens his eyes and smiles at Bill. 

“Thanks for caring that much. I really appreciate it.”

Bill nods and looks down at Mike’s shoes. 

“Thanks for letting me wake you up like this,” Bill murmurs. “You _really_ didn’t have to d-do this.” 

“I’m the one who wanted to see _you_ , remember?” Mike says. “I wanted to actually _see_ that you’re alright. I know how you get.” 

“How do I get?” Bill asks skeptically. 

Mike rolls his eyes. “You know, _protective._ Like you gotta take on everything by yourself sometimes. Like you’re carrying the whole world on your scrawny shoulders.” 

“Hey! I’m not so scrawny anymore!” Bill protests. 

Even in the dim lighting, Mike can see Bill’s face turning pink. It’s a good look for him, Mike thinks.

“I hate to break it to you, Big Bill, but you’re still kinda puny.” 

“I’m just not a _giant_ like you,” Bill says, trying to glare at Mike. It just makes him look sleepy. 

“Oh, please,” Mike says. “You and I are the same height! And Richie’s taller than both of us now.”

“Yeah, but you’re _bigger_ than almost all of us,” Bill argues. “Especially your arms and sh-shoulders. You’ve got a lot more muscle.” 

Mike preens and flexes. If the movements help him ignore the flash of nervousness he feels, that doesn’t have to be anyone’s business but his own. 

“So, you’re saying I’m buff?” 

“Nevermind, I take it back!” Bill says. “You’re shrimpy-looking, too!” 

“Nope, too late! It’s already gone to my head!” 

“Oh my _God_.” 

Bill shakes his head, but he still laughs. His laughter is contagious, and soon Mike finds himself in the middle of a giggle fit. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Bill says, more fond than anything else.

Mike sighs contentedly. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” 

They let a few more quiet moments pass them by. It’s getting even cooler out, tipping into cold. It’s getting closer to morning. 

“Mike,” Bill says, his tone more serious now. “If . . . I mean, if he _does_ come back and tries to h-hurt you . . .”

Fear grabs Mike tightly for a second, squeezing his heart. Mike looks down at his right hand, turning his palm upward. He can still see the scar. It’s faded more and more over the past couple of years, but it’s still there. 

“We’ll kick his ass again,” Mike says, forcing himself to sound confident. “We’ll do it together.” 

Bill looks at Mike with that determined look in his eyes. 

“Yeah. You’re right. We w-will. I’d do anything to protect you, Mike.” 

It’s a little overwhelming, hearing Bill say that. Mike knows without certainty that Bill means it. 

“I’d do anything to protect you, too,” Mike says. And he means it just as much as Bill does. “So, that clown’s got nothing on us.” 

Bill smiles, and his eyes seem to glow. 

“Nope. He’s got nothing at all.” 

###

Bill leaves at the first light of day. 

Mike watches as he speeds away on Silver, moving faster than the sunrise. 

It’s strange; Mike feels a little sad to see him go. Mike saw him all day—and all night—yesterday. He’ll probably see Bill tomorrow, and he’ll probably see him the next day and the day after that. 

But, he still doesn’t want Bill to leave right now. Mike still wants them to just sit in the barn and talk until their voices give out. 

Damn. When did Mike become so clingy? What the hell is up with _that_? 

###

Bill’s parents are just waking by the time Bill puts Silver away, sneaks back upstairs and changes clothes. 

Bill’s meandering around the kitchen, making himself a bowl of cereal when his father lumbers downstairs into the kitchen. Bill watches as his father blinks at him, looking at Bill as if he doesn’t recognize him. 

Zack Denbrough often looks at his son this way: as if the version of Bill standing before him doesn’t match the version he has in his mind. 

“You’re up early,” Zack mumbles, stepping past Bill to the coffee maker. “It’s only six-something.”

Bill shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. And I got hungry, so . . .”

Zack scoffs as he fiddles with the coffee machine. He doesn’t look up at Bill again. 

“What’s new?” he grumbles. 

Bill watches his father’s back and sighs.

“Yeah, what’s new?” Bill mumbles. It’s mostly to himself. 

Bill shuffles upstairs with his cereal, leaving his father to his coffee.

Bill wishes he’d stayed with Mike.

He couldn’t have stayed with Mike. Mike’s granddad would’ve seen them, and Bill’s parents would’ve _eventually_ realized he was gone. There was no way Bill could’ve stayed any longer.

But he really, _really_ wishes he had. 


	5. Chapter 5

To his credit, Mike manages to finish most of his chores before Leroy even comes downstairs. Mike yawns the entire time and spooks a couple of baby goats while he works, but, nonetheless, he gets work done. 

Leroy finds Mike cleaning out the gardening shed. Mike’s in the middle of fighting with tangled hoses when Leroy approaches him.

“Got damn it,” Mike mutters under his breath as he battles the heavy tubing. 

“Hey, watch your mouth!” Leroy admonishes.

Mike jumps when he hears his grandfather’s voice. He turns to see Leroy pointing at him.

“You ain’t old enough to swear to yourself in front of me just yet,” Leroy says. “You gotta wait until you’re Howard’s age.” 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says. Then, after a second: “Wait, _Howard’s_ age? That long?” 

Leroy looks at Mike for a moment, then nods.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “Okay, I’ll let you start when you’re 21.” 

“Okay, Granddad,” Mike says with a laugh.

Leroy chuckles and crosses his arms as he appraises Mike.

“You’re up and hustling pretty early this morning, huh?”

Mike goes to speak, but a loud, long yawn cuts him off. Mike yawns so hard his eyes start to water. 

“Or, should I say you’ve been up _all night?_ ” Leroy asks.

Mike wipes at the tears in his eyes and nods.

“That one,” he says. “I just couldn’t go to sleep last night.” 

Leroy looks at Mike with suspicion. Mike feels himself shrink under the gaze. 

“Well, what were you doing?” Leroy asks. “You didn’t have anybody in my house while I was asleep, did you?” 

“No, no sir,” Mike says. “No one in the house.”

Leroy keeps watching him, his eyes boring into Mike’s face. Mike hopes and prays he isn’t turning red. He doesn’t have all that much practice with lying straight to his grandfather’s face. 

But, then again, this isn’t _technically_ a lie, right? Bill wasn’t _in_ the house, after all. 

Leroy hums and narrows his eyes at Mike.

“I feel like you’re up to something,” Leroy says. “But, at this present time, I can’t figure out what it is.”

“I promise you I’m not up to anything, Granddad,” Mike says, keeping his face as straight as possible.

Leroy does _not_ believe him. Mike can tell by the quirk of his grandfather’s eyebrow. But the sound of a truck pulling into the gravel driveway saves Mike from further interrogation. Phillip has arrived, with bags of meal piled into the truck’s bed.

“I’ll go help him,” Mike announces, and he walks around his grandfather before he can say anything.

Leroy doesn’t say anything, but Mike can still feel his doubt.

###

Bill forces himself to finish his homework before dinnertime. 

When he’s done and has used nearly all of his brain power on calculus, Bill pushes himself away from his desk and slumps in his chair. The day he’s permanently done with school will be the best day of his life. 

Bill closes his eyes. He thinks of last night, of the nightmare again. Then, he thinks of the barn. He thinks of Mike leaning against a bale of hay, a weak, orange light splayed across his brown eyes. Bill thinks of how still the night seemed to be around them as they sat and talked, hiding themselves from whatever lurks in Bill’s mind. 

_They knew the ghosts couldn’t get them as long as they sat in the light . . ._

Bill opens his eyes and sits up straight. He slides back to his desk and writes the line down before he forgets it. Then, he starts to write more, and more. 

Bill feels excited as he writes. He thinks Mike’s gonna like this one. 

###

Mike, somehow, gets stuck on potato duty tonight.

Mike struggles through peeling and chopping the dense potatoes while his uncles get to make greens and mac and cheese, and his grandfather gets to make the chicken. Mike thinks this is Leroy’s way of punishing him for the offense he still doesn’t realize Mike’s committed. 

Howard and Phillip fill Leroy in on their trips to the markets this morning as they cook. Mike largely tunes them out, focusing his attention on the stubborn potatoes he’s been saddled with. 

But then Howard gets Mike’s attention.

“Hey, I thought I saw one of your friends out this morning, Mike,” Howard says. “ _Really_ early this morning.” 

Mike glances over to him for a fraction of a second. He’d rather stare at the potatoes than risk showing the surprise on his face. 

“My friends don’t get up early on weekends, so it couldn’t have been one of them,” Mike says. 

Phillip and Leroy chuckle. Howard does not. 

Mike, getting nervous, forcefully chops a potato.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it was,” Howard says. “Because I recognized the bike. It was _silver_. Doesn’t that Bill kid have a bike like that?” 

Mike nicks one of his fingers with his knife.

“Shit!” Mike hisses.

“Michael Hanlon!” Leroy cries. “What did I tell you this morning?”

Mike’s face burns as he moves to the sink and runs cool water over his cut finger.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mike says. 

“Wait, this _morning_?” Phillip asks, peering at Mike curiously. “You were cussing this morning?” 

Mike bites the inside of his cheek and decides to preoccupy himself with getting a bandage. Leroy scoffs as Mike scurries down the hall to their supply closet.

“The boy is starting to think he’s _grown_ ,” Leroy says. “Swearing to himself and whatnot.”

“You used to pop me in the mouth for cussing,” Howard says. “But Mike apparently cusses twice in one day, and you barely say anything?” 

“You used to do it a lot more, _and_ you were even younger,” Leroy says. “ _And_ you’d get an attitude when your mother told you to apologize!” 

“So, what, Mike is just a better kid than I was?” Howard demands. 

Mike wraps the bandage around his finger and walks back into the kitchen. He doesn’t even look in Howard’s direction as he returns to his potatoes. Mike feels so tense and uncomfortable it’s making him nauseated. 

“That’s _your_ assessment, not mine,” Leroy says. “But I assure you I loved you just as much as I love Mike right now.” 

“Sure can’t tell,” Howard says.

Mike goes back to chopping, working carefully and slowly this time. He’s ready for this night to be over. 

As Mike works, Phillip walks over to him and nudges his shoulder.

“Ignore him,” Phillip mouths, and he rolls his eyes at his brother. 

Mike ducks his head and smiles. 

###

Mondays are always excruciating for Bill, but today is especially painful. 

It’s so _slow._ The school day drags on and on, and each class period becomes more mind-numbing. Calculus and biology give him a headache, and he spends most of history ignoring the balls of paper Richie throws at the back of his head. 

English is a brief reprieve; he uses the class time to perfect his new story. The one he plans on showing Mike after school. 

And yes, Bill realizes that’s part of the reason the day seems so slow. He’s been ready to go to Mike’s since he got up this morning. 

Stan, Richie and Bev catch up with Bill in the halls after he leaves English. Bill, still thinking about whether his story’s ending is good, barely even notices them. 

“I told you guys Billiam’s _ignoring_ us today!” Richie says, bumping his arm against Bill’s. 

“Hellooo, earth to Bill?” Bev says in a singsong voice. “You still with us?” 

Bill blinks at his friends. “Huh? Oh, sorry, guys.” 

“Are you okay?” Stan asks with a laugh. “Because you seem pretty spaced out today. And I think you hurt Richie’s feelings.”

Bill rolls his eyes as Richie pouts. 

“Yeah, I’m sure I did.”

“I’ll have you know I was _deeply_ offended by the way you disregarded me!” Richie says. “Is that how you treat one of your closet friends?”

“You know, Richie,” Bill says, “you’d probably be passing history if you spent more time actually paying attention in class than you spend b-bugging _me._ ” 

Richie’s jaw drops as Stan and Bev laugh at his expense. 

“What the _fuck_ , Bill? That’s not fair!” Richie argues. 

“No, it sounds pretty fair,” Bev says. “Your priorities are a little outta whack, Richie.”

That starts a back-and-forth between Bev and Richie, with Stan trying to referee. Richie is outraged, Bev keeps laughing, and Bill uses the opportunity to slip away from them and step into his next class.

###

Bill has last lunch with Ben and Stan. They usually sit at one of the tables outside, rambling about class or whatever weird thing that happened to them during the day. After lunch, Bill has two classes left and then he’ll be free together. 

But, Bill decides to skip today, anyway. 

Bill walks past the cafeteria and slips out of the school’s backdoor. And he walks home to get Silver. 

He’ll have to answer to the other Losers later. But he’s okay with that. 

###

Mike’s taken to doing his homework outside when it’s nice outside. 

He sits cross-legged in the porch chair as he finishes his anatomy work. The weather is cooperating today; the sky is bright blue, and the sun has decided to be kind. The soft breeze feels good against Mike’s skin. Being outside is one thing Mike’s always loved about working on the farm. No matter how chaotic farm life can get, getting to be outdoors makes up for it. 

As Mike finishes his work, he hears a soft, familiar sound, the sound’s getting closer and a little louder. 

Mike looks down at his watch: it’s barely 1 p.m. There’s no way that’s who Mike thinks it is. 

But sure enough, Bill glides towards him on Silver, smiling when he sees Mike sitting on the porch.

“Hey!” Bill says. “I figured you’d be around back or inside somewhere.”

Mike closes his book and stands up. As confused as Mike is, he can’t help but smile at the sight of Bill. 

“And I figured _you’d_ still be in school by now,” Mike says as he walks down the porch steps. “Aren’t you missing sixth period?” 

Bill shrugs, still smiling. 

“It’s not that big a d-deal. It’s the end of the year, anyway,” Bill says. “Where are your folks?”

Mike looks to the empty driveway and also gives a lazy shrug. 

“Granddad went to some farmer’s conference in town. I think he dragged my uncles with him.”

“Oh,” Bill says. “Cool.”

Mike looks back to Bill, another smile spreading across his face.

“It’s good, actually, because they’d probably want to know what _you’re_ doing here right now.” 

Bill grins, looking more mischievous than Mike’s used to. 

“I wanted to show you something,” Bill says, “and I didn’t feel like waiting.”

Mike feels that strong flash of nervousness, again. The feeling’s in his stomach, pooling in his cheeks. It’s even in his chest, making his heart pitter-patter. Mike tries to shoo the feeling away, nudge it until it’s at the back of his mind. But, it won’t budge.

“Does everyone else know you’re ditching?” Mike asks, hoping Bill can’t hear whatever is going on inside of him right now. 

“They know by _now_ ,” Bill answers, looking quite proud of himself. 

Mike rolls his eyes. Of course Bill just left when he felt like he needed to. 

“Come on,” Mike says, nodding towards their barn. 

###

Bill watches Mike’s face as he reads. He watches the way Mike’s brow furrows and jumps, the way his nostrils flare, the way the corner of his mouth quirks upwards. The way his eyes light up. 

When Mike’s finished, he looks up at Bill with a wide smile that makes Bill’s face go hot. 

“It’s so _creepy_ ,” Mike says. “It’s really good!” 

Bill laughs as a wave of relief washes over him. He didn’t even realize he’d been on edge this whole time. 

“Thanks!”

Mike nods. “Yeah, of course, man. I’m glad my barn inspired you.” 

Mike gestures grandly around the barn while Bill laughs. Bill’s about to respond when the barn’s door suddenly creaks.

“ _Mike?_ ”

Mike’s arms drop to his side and Bill goes cold all over. He turns around to see a man standing in the doorway. It’s Mike’s uncle Phillip, standing there with his arms crossed.

All the reasons why this was a bad idea come rushing back to Bill. Yes, there _is_ a reason you’re not supposed to cut class to come to your homeschooled friend’s house in the middle of the day. Bill’s going to get Mike in trouble just because he couldn’t wait a couple of hours to see him. What kind of friend is Bill? 

“Hey, Phillip,” Mike says, his voice tight. “I thought you were with Howard and Granddad?” 

“Oh, I was _supposed_ to go with them today,” Phillip says, “but I, um, ‘couldn’t make it.’ Had ‘work to do,’ you know.” 

Phillip winks, and Mike laughs, but Bill thinks Mike still sounds petrified. Bill still feels frozen. Phillip doesn’t _seem_ like he’s mad, but he could just be waiting until Bill leaves to flip out on Mike. 

Phillip looks Bill dead in his face. 

“You’re Bill, right? With the silver bike?” 

Bill forces himself to nod.

“Y-yes s-sir.” 

Damn _stutter._

Bill clears his throat and says, “Yes, sir. I was just dr-dropping something off for M-Mike.”

“Oh, nice,” Phillip says, still smiling. “I was just picking up something from the house and I heard _voices_ back here . . .”

Mike stands up, which means Bill needs to stand up, too. 

“Yeah, yeah, we just started talking,” Mike says.

That’s Bill’s cue. He knows an exit when he sees one.

“And I was just l-leaving,” Bill says politely. 

Phillip chuckles softly and nods. “Alright, then. It was good to see you, Bill.” 

Phillip pushes himself off of the door frame and walks away, whistling to himself as he goes. It takes an eternity for Phillip to be out of earshot. 

Mike and Bill both sigh heavily. Bill feels like his heart is going to explode. That was entirely too stressful. 

“ _Jeez_ ,” Mike mumbles. 

Bill peers over to Mike. “I’ll see you later?” 

A part of Bill expects Mike to tell him to get off his property and don’t come back for a while. But Mike just smiles at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike says. “I’ll see you later.” 

And with that Bill leaves, riding away on Silver before he can cause any more trouble. 

###

Phillip waits until later to bring it up. 

He waits until Howard’s long gone home and Leroy decides to retire to his room. As soon as they hear the soft click of Leroy’s door shutting, Phillip plops down on the couch next to Mike and smirks. 

“You know, you’re smarter than I was when I was your age,” Phillip says. “Because I would’ve _never_ thought to use that barn to _entertain_ my friends.”

“I—” Mike’s blinking and stammering, and he knows his face is changing color. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bill just wanted to bring me something.” 

Phillip narrows his eyes. “Something he had to cut school and hide in a barn to show you?” 

Mike shifts around on the couch. He has a feeling of dread. This conversation is taking a turn Mike isn’t prepared for.

“We were just talking,” Mike says. “That’s all.”

Phillip looks Mike fully in the face. “Yeah, I know.” 

Mike goes tense at the look Phillip’s giving him. His smirk has completely faded, and the stare he’s giving Mike makes Mike want to crawl out of his skin.

“But, Mike,” Phillip says, “I want you to know . . . if you two _weren’t_ just talking . . . that’s okay, too.” 

Mike stares at Phillip; words are escaping him right now. 

Phillip thinks . . . he thinks Mike and Bill were . . .

“Bill . . .” the words get stuck in Mike’s throat. He swallows, tries again. “He and I, we’re not . . . we’re just . . .”

_Just friends._ It’s the truth. It’s who they’ve been for years now. Just friends. 

But, Mike can’t say it. 

Phillip stands up from the couch and stretches. 

“I need to be getting home,” Phillip says. He looks down at Mike. “I’ll see you tomorrow, nephew.”

“Yeah . . .” Mike says distantly. He’s still focused on words, on the questions, on the _look_ in his uncle’s eyes.

Phillip watches Mike. Maybe he can hear all the thoughts tripping over themselves in Mike’s mind. Phillip smiles softly, and he reaches down and puts his hand on Mike's shoulder.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” Phillip says. “You don’t even have to _know_ now. I just want to know I’ve got your back. No matter who you sneak into the barn.” 

Phillip gives Mike’s shoulder a squeeze before turning and walking out of the front door. 

Mike stares after him, frozen.


	6. Chapter 6

Richie and Eddie practically pounce on Bill at his locker.

“And where the hell did _you_ go yesterday?” Eddie demands with a glare. 

Bill shrugs and tries to ignore the feeling in his chest. 

“I was just ready to go, I g-guess,” Bill says as he opens his locker and starts digging through his books. “Plus, I had to give Mike s-something.”

“Well, shit,” Richie says, “we should’ve known.” Richie turns to Eddie and adds, “Why wasn’t Mike our _first_ guess?” 

Bill nearly drops his biology book. Something about Richie’s tone makes Bill feel uneasy. 

“What do you mean?” 

Richie rolls his eyes. “I mean, Mike’s _clearly_ your favorite. He’s your _actual_ best friend.” 

Bill looks between Richie and Eddie. They’re both giving him the same look, like what Richie’s said should’ve been obvious to Bill. 

“But you’re _all_ my best friends . . .” Bill mumbles. 

Eddie scoffs loudly, startling Bill. 

“ _That’s_ a lie,” Eddie says. “You guys are _definitely_ best-best friends.” 

Bill looks down and stuffs his books into his backpack. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about.” 

Bill closes his locker and pulls his backpack on. Eddie and Richie are staring at him.

“Dude,” Richie says. “You spend _way_ more time with Mike than you do the rest of us.”

“ _And_ you talk to him on the phone more,” Eddie adds. 

“ _And_ you both have the same weird ass hobbies now. Like, reading too much and that kinda shit,” Richie says. 

Bill’s beginning to feel dizzy. He’s not sure why what they’re saying is getting under his skin so much. It’s not entirely untrue. But something about this conversation feels . . . incriminating, in a way. 

“Aren’t you two the exact same way?” Bill says. “Are you guys ‘b-best best f-friends’, too?”

Richie and Eddie suddenly both clam up. They’re wearing matching deer-in-headlights expressions. 

“We’re not the _exact_ same way,” Eddie says hastily. “We’re just . . .”

Eddie looks over to Richie, who still looks like he’s got stage fright. Richie suddenly laughs, but Bill can still hear a trace of nervousness in his voice. 

“It’s just that _I’m_ always having to _babysit_ dear old man Eduardo over here,” Richie says. 

Eddie’s jaw drops. “ _You_ babysit _me?_ Um, hello?! If it weren’t for me, you would’ve died on several different occasions!” 

Bill sighs as Richie and Eddie start bickering yet again. At least they’re not focused on him anymore.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Bill announces, walking away before either of them can say anything. 

###

Mike thinks about it all week. 

It’s amazing Mike gets any work done at all over the next few days. He can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes without his mind wandering back to Monday night. He’ll be reading a paragraph from his history packet or feeding one of the baby goats and he’ll picture the look on Bill’s face when Phillip walked into the barn. 

Mike hasn’t even been able to actually _talk to Bill_ because of it. Every time he’s picked up the phone to call Bill, he’s remembered the smirk on Phillip’s face and dropped the phone back onto the receiver. 

It’s even worse when Phillip’s around. 

Every time he sees Phillip, all Mike can think about is that conversation, about how _casual_ Phillip was about it. Phillip had just smiled at them. He’d essentially told Mike it didn’t matter. And he’d _meant it._

And Phillip didn’t mention it to anyone else. Phillip didn’t snitch on Mike to Leroy. As far as Mike can tell, Phillip didn’t even tell Howard. 

_We were just talking._

Because they _were._ And the idea that Phillip seriously thinks there’s something else going on that Mike would want to keep secret is . . . it makes Mike feel . . . 

Mike doesn’t know _how_ he feels.

He puzzles over it for days. Is Mike supposed to be bothered by it? Freaked out? Upset? He’s not, really. When Mike thinks about it, he just feels . . . confused? No, not even confused is the word. So, what _is_ the word?

_We’re just friends._

Except, Mike didn’t say that. He’d tried to; he’d looked Phillip in the face and opened his mouth to say, “We’re just friends.” But he _couldn’t._ The words wouldn’t come out. 

Mike and Bill _are_ friends; they’ve been friends for a few years, but it feels like even longer. Sometimes it feels like they’ve been friends for Mike’s whole life, or that they will be friends for the rest of Mike’s life. Bill is Mike’s best friend, if he’s being honest. Mike doesn’t think he’s had a friend understand him the way Bill does. 

Mike and Bill _are_ friends. So, why couldn’t Mike just say that?

###

_The water keeps rising._

_Terror grips Bill as he stares down over the cliff, watching as the waters of the quarry rise higher and higher. It’s impossibly high and ferocious; the water has eroded the rock, taken down all the trees. The whole world is going to drown._

_Sharp rocks stab Bill as he crawls backwards, trying to push himself away from the raging water. He can feel rocks slicing through the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet as he moves, but it feels like he’s not_ _going_ _anywhere. The water keeps rising, getting closer and closer and closer._

_And then, there’s a noise, a loud sound of frantic movement to Bill’s right. Bill looks over and his heart stops._

_It’s Mike, sitting on eroded rock, trying his best to get away. The water is lapping at his feet. Mike’s got cuts on his hands, on his feet, on his face. And he looks terrified._

_“Mike!”_

_And Bill leans over, fear of the water be damned. He wraps a hand around Mike’s wrist. Blood smears against Mike’s skin. Bill is bleeding. Bill and Mike are_ _both_ _bleeding._

_“We gotta get outta here!” Bill cries, and he pulls Mike’s arm, hoping to help him move more._

_But, Mike_ _freezes,_ _and looks at Bill with horror. With disgust._

_“No!” Mike yells. “Let go of me!”_

_What? What is Mike talking about? The water is rising, covering Mike’s feet and slamming against his ankles._

_“Huh?” Bill holds Mike tighter, pulls him harder. “Mike, we gotta_ _go!_ _”_

_Mike closes his eyes and shakes his head. He tugs his arm back, almost pulling Bill to the ground._

_“No! Let. Me. Go!”_

_Why is this happening? The water’s getting higher, moving even faster. They’re going to_ _drown!_

_“But—Mike—”_

_“Bill.” Mike opens his eyes, stares into Bill’s. “You have to let me go, okay? You’ve got to let me go.”_

_Bill holds Mike tight. His blood coats Mike’s wrist. And the water keeps rising._

_“Bill. Let. Go.”_

_Bill’s eyes burn as tears rush out._

_Slowly, slowly—he lets go._

###

Bill nearly jumps out of bed, gasping so hard his chest hurts.

He gulps for air as reality begins to return to him. It’s Friday, very late, past midnight. Bill’s at home; he’s in his bed. His parents are asleep down the hall. He’s okay. Bill’s okay. 

_Mike._

Bill’s heart starts to pound. Mike is—Mike’s at _home._ Mike’s at home, too. He’s at home with his grandfather, across town in their farmhouse, probably fast asleep in bed. Bill _didn’t_ actually let Mike drown in the impossibly high waters at the quarry. 

It was just another nightmare. One of Bill’s many, _many_ nightmares. 

Bill is so damn tired. 

Bill groans and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. This is the worst type of exhaustion; so tired and weak you can pass out at any moment, but so high-strung and keyed-up sleep isn’t even an option. Bill’s eyes feel heavy and his shoulders quiver. He has no business sitting upright now, but he knows won’t get any rest by lying back down.

Bill pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them tight, laying his cheek on top of his knee. Doing this usually comforts him. Tonight, it just makes Bill feel even more small. 

He wants to call Mike. 

“ _No_ ,” Bill growls to himself. He closes his eyes as if it’ll make the suggestion disappear. “No, no, no.” 

Bill can’t go waking Mike up _all_ the time. He thinks he’s already caused enough problems for Mike. Bill and Mike haven’t spoken since Monday, and as much as Bill would like to blame it on school and chores, he can’t help but think it has something to do with Mike’s uncle Phillip. For all Bill knows, Mike’s grandfather and uncles could’ve banned Mike from talking to Bill anymore. Mike might not even call tomorrow morning. 

_Mike might not even call tomorrow morning._

The realization makes Bill’s chest go tight. 

When did he get like this? When did the thought of losing Mike in even the smallest ways become akin to being punched in the chest? It’s just a phone call. But it’s _not_ just a phone call? Has it ever been “just a phone call” with the two of them? It’s always been the one thing that Bill can depend on. 

What is going _on_ with Bill? What’s his problem? Bill feels like he’s losing his mind, and the one person he wants to talk to is the one person he can’t call right now. 

Bill hugs his knees even tighter. The movement doesn’t make him feel any safer or better or less alone. It just makes him feel small.

###

It’s 3:45 a.m. Mike is giving up on going to sleep.

Mike has been tossing and turning for _hours._ He’s closed his eyes a hundred times, but he hasn’t gotten a second of sleep. Mike’s too cold; then, he’s too hot. He’s exhausted, but wired. He’s _anxious_ , and he’s not even sure why. 

Mike hates this. 

Mike sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He just sits there for a moment, taking in the stillness of the approaching morning. It’s so _quiet._ Frozen. It’s lonely. 

He looks around his room, and his eyes settle on the book on his bedside table. _Something Wicked_ stares back at him. Mike hasn’t had a chance to read it all week. Now’s as good a time as any. 

Mike reaches down and pulls his flashlight from underneath his bed, flipping it on. He leans over and pulls the book into his lap. And as Mike opens to the page he’s bookmarked, a neatly-folded piece of notebook paper falls out. 

Bill. Right. It’s starting to feel like _everything_ is about Bill. 

Mike shines the bright light onto the paper and tenderly unfolds it. 

_They knew the ghosts couldn’t get them as long as they sat in the light. So, they sat close, shivering, as the cold wind howled._

Reading Bill’s writing is interesting; Mike can read it over and over again and feel differently every time. When he read it Monday, with Bill sitting right next to him, Mike’d felt excited and curious. 

But not now. 

_The door rattled, shaking harder and harder. The ghosts wanted them and would stop at nothing to get them._

Now, as he reads, Mike begins to feel tense and unnerved. The characters are _alone._ They’re alone, and there’s some supernatural evil on the other side of the door, trying to break through and kill them. They don't have anyone to protect them except for themselves. 

And each other. But that's the whole point, right? They have each other. 

Mike hears a loud _creak_ outside of his door and nearly jumps out of his skin. Loud, lumbering footsteps pass his door and thunder down the stairs. Mike gets out of bed and creeps to the door, poking his head out just in time to see Leroy walking down the stairs, murmuring to himself as he goes. 

“Granddad?” Mike calls.

Leroy startles but turns around. 

“Mike?” Leroy says as his eyes adjust to dark. “What’re you doing up? It’s barely four.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Mike says. “What about you?”

“Eh, my sweet tooth got me,” Leroy says. “Why don’t you come sit with me for a while?” 

Mike nods, feeling relieved.

###

“This not sleeping thing is becoming a bad habit for you, grandson. What’s on your mind?”

Mike shrugs. He swivels the remaining bit of hot chocolate in his mug around. The four o’clock hour is passing. Soon, the first signs of dawn will be sneaking on them. 

“Nothing, I guess.”

“Nah,” Leroy says. “A man don’t lose sleep over ‘nothing.’ There’s _something_ going on in that square head of yours.”

Mike chuckles and ducks his head. “Well, I don’t know, then. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Mike can feel Leroy studying him. Leroy hums softly and leans back in his chair. 

“I can understand that,” Leroy says. “Sometimes it feels like everything is bothering you all at once. It becomes so much your mind just goes blank.” 

“You get overwhelmed,” Mike mumbles. Mike thinks back to the many, many times he’s felt it. “It becomes too much.”

“Exactly,” Leroy says. “And you end up sitting up with your old man at the ungodly hour. Jesus isn’t even outta bed yet, but here you are.”

“Since when does Jesus need sleep, Granddad?” Mike asks with a laugh.

“Oh, come on, now. _Everybody_ got resting hours, Mike,” Leroy says, trying so hard to keep a straight face. “Not everybody is up at all hours like you.” 

Mike nods. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“As you should,” Leroy says with a smile. “But, in all seriousness, grandson. I want you to know that you can talk to me about what’s on your mind. Whatever it is.”

Mike falters. This moment reminds him of him and Phillip, of Phillip saying _no matter who you sneak into the barn_ in that tone that’s been lingering in Mike’s mind. 

“Thank you.” But that discomfort and confusion is approaching again, so Mike shifts around in his seat and says, “Um, do you still plan on making deliveries today?”

Leroy doesn’t answer right away; he just looks at Mike for a second. Mike can tell Leroy knows what he’s doing.

“Yeah, we do,” Leroy eventually says with a sigh. “Me and your uncles plan to leave out around 9:30. Probably won’t be back until tonight.”

Mike looks down at his mug. “Oh, okay.”

“ _So_ ,” Leroy continues, “that means I expect anyone who comes over to be gone before sunset. And my house better not be a mess when we get back. _And_ you better not eat all my food. Understood?” 

Mike thinks of calling Bill in just a few short hours. He calls every Saturday; it’d be weird for him _not_ to call. But the thought of it makes his stomach flutter. 

“Yes sir,” Mike says. “Understood.” 

###

Bill’s phone rings at almost the exact same time as it normally rings on Saturday mornings. And Bill is genuinely shocked.

He barely answers it in time, stumbling across his bedroom to yank the phone from its receiver.

“H-hey! You c-called . . .”

Mike laughs, a brief, raspy sound. 

“Like I always do. Unless you don’t want me to . . .”

“N- _no_ , that’s not what I mean. I, um, I mean—”

_Jeez_ , _Bill, pull it together._

Bill takes a breath and says, “It’s just that I hadn’t heard from you all week.”

“Oh.” Mike’s voice changes, goes deeper. “Yeah, you can blame my uncle for that.” 

Bill winces. Great, so he _did_ get Mike in trouble.

“Well,” Mike quickly adds, “what I mean is that they kept me more busy this week. I just had a lot more work to do.”

Bill can’t tell if that’s the truth; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Mike lie to him before. But Mike _does_ sound different this morning.

“But, hey, listen,” Mike continues. “I’ve got the house to myself all day. You guys should come over.” 

“Your granddad won’t m-mind?” 

“Nah, it’s fine. He just gave me the same old house rules. Come over.”

That _feeling_ —the same old that was nagging at Bill last week, poking and prodding at him all day—flares up again. Bill feels like he should say no, or that he should make up some excuse. It feels like a bad idea to show up to the Hanlon farm today. 

But Bill wants to see Mike. He’s wanted to see him for days. 

So: “Yeah, okay. See you soon.”

###

They spend the whole day outside.

They make sandwiches, grab sodas and snacks and have a makeshift picnic. They eat and then spread out across the grounds, lolling around in the grass. Mike stretches out and watches Stan and Eddie tease Richie about his fear of sheep. He watches Bev and Ben as they huddle together and cooing at baby chicks, Bev carefully cradling a couple in her hands. 

And he watches Bill, lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. 

And it’s at that moment—while Mike’s sitting there watching the flutter of Bill’s eyelashes—that it hits him. 

_I want to be more than friends._

Mike’s stomach drops; his throat suddenly feels dry as a desert. Mike looks away from Bill and closes his eyes, squeezing them tight. But the thought remains, loud and clear as a church bell.

_I want to be more than friends._

Mike opens his eyes and stares at the big, blue sky. 

Oh. _Oh._

###

It takes Bill all day to figure it out. To finally figure out what that _feeling_ is. 

It bugs Bill while he’s eating, while he’s listening to Ben gush over chicks, while he’s listening to Richie ramble about sheep not having souls. It even bugs Bill while he’s not doing anything at all, while he’s just lying on the grass, staring up at the sky.

It bothers Bill for all that time, but he doesn’t figure it out until the end, when they’re all going home. Not until he goes to say goodbye to Mike, and Mike gives him a small smile. Not until Mike’s hand brushes against Bill’s, and Bill feels a shock to his heart.

“See ya,” Mike says to Bill, and his voice and gaze are so shy, but they turn Bill’s world upside down. 

And Bill squeaks out a goodbye and flies home. And the wind slams into his face, and his heart starts beating too fast for his chest. 

It’s Mike. It’s Mike, it’s Mike, _it’s Mike._

And Bill, falling hard for him.


	7. Chapter 7

Mike doesn’t sleep at all. Not for one second. 

He just stares at the ceiling all night, not even moving. Mike stares and tries his hardest to keep his mind blank, to not think of the one thing that won’t leave his mind. 

It’s no use, though. What else is Mike going to think about?

It’s kind of funny; Mike had been so bent out of shape when Phillip assumed he and Bill were more than friends. He didn’t understand how Phillip came to that conclusion. But what if Phillip was just seeing the obvious? What if Phillip could just look at Mike and see how he feels about Bill? How could Phillip see it so easily when even Mike didn’t? 

Or maybe Mike _did_ see it. Or, maybe Mike should’ve seen this coming from miles away. Maybe there’s always been some small, hidden part of Mike that realized he felt this way about Bill. 

If Mike’s being totally honest, he’s never actually _wanted_ a girl. Sure, he’s seen girls he thinks are pretty, who have nice smiles and lovely eyes and cool hair. Mike’s always thought Bev was one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. But he’s never wanted to _be_ with a girl. Not like that. He’s always stopped just short of actually wanting to kiss or touch a girl. 

But, guys . . .

Last spring, Phillip brought a friend of his, Marlon, to work as a farmhand for a few weeks. Mike remembers Marlon was tall, with dark, coarse hair, thick arms and broad shoulders. He had deep-brown skin that always seemed to glow and a big, bright grin he would flash whenever he saw Mike. Marlon was always very kind to Mike, but Mike remembers that he always felt _nervous_ around him. He’d see Marlon and he’d feel flustered and shaky and off-kilter. It was like Mike couldn’t help himself; he could never keep his cool around his uncle’s friend. 

If either Phillip or Marlon noticed, they never said anything. Neither of them ever treated Mike any different. They all just worked and laughed and hung out together, like normal.

Mike can look back now and realize _nervous_ probably isn’t the word for what he was feeling. 

When Mike thinks about it, he can recognize there’s been other guys. A store clerk who made Mike look twice, an older student in the library he watched from the corner of his eye. But there’s never been anything like _this._ There’s never been anything like Bill. 

And honestly? That makes sense. There’s no one else in this world like Bill Denbrough. No one who thinks like Bill; no one as caring, or as thoughtful. No one who can make Mike feel like he can do anything. There’s no one else with Bill’s eyes, or his smirk, or his quiet laugh. There’s no one else that Mike wants to be _close_ to, that Mike can imagine spending every single day with. 

Bill’s different. And that’s terrifying. 

If there _were_ such a part of him that knew he felt this way about Bill—something tiny and tucked away into the folds of Mike’s mind—there’s no hiding it now. 

What the hell is Mike supposed to do? 

###

_The sky is red._

_Black, heavy storm clouds slowly roll in, swallowing the little light that remains. The smell of blood is so thick and strong in the air that Bill can taste it in his mouth._

_Bill can’t move; he lies stone-still, staring up at the bloody, dark sky. The grass beneath him is charred and brittle; the slow rise and fall of Bill’s chest and the slightest twitch of his fingers is enough to snap the blades into two._

_Bill’s so tired. He hurts all over, and he can’t move. And he’s so, so tired._

_Near him, Bill hears the faintest sound of movement. And without looking, he knows who it is._

_“Mi—Mi—” the name gets stuck in Bill’s throat, like it’s grown too big for Bill to say aloud._

_Bill takes a deep breath. He tries to open his mouth again, to say Mike’s name again, but no words come forth. The red-and-black sky stares back down at Bill, taunting him._

_“ . . . Bill?” Mike’s voice is too quiet, broken. “. . . Bill, what’s going on?”_

_Bill takes another breath and opens his mouth again. His throat hurts. It’s dry, and it burns._

_“I d-don’t kn-kn-know.” It_ _hurts_ _, but Bill pushes past the pain. “I don’t kn-know.”_

_Mike makes an impossibly small noise. He sounds scared._

_Bill reaches for Mike. He’s in searing pain and the ground beneath him seems to crumble, but Bill keeps reaching until his fingertips graze Mike’s arm. Mike sighs when Bill’s fingers finally touch Mike’s skin._

_“_ _Bill . . .”_

_“Mike.” Bill takes a deep, ragged breath. “Mike, I . . . I love—”_

_Mike flinches, and Bill’s fingertips hit dead grass._

_“I know,” Mike says, his voice dark and heavy._

_Above them, the red sky deepens, growing darker, darker, darker._

_Bill closes his eyes for the last time._

###

Bill wakes up slowly, and in tears.

He throws an arm over his eyes, but that doesn’t stop the tears from spilling out from his eyes. He holds his breath, but that doesn’t stop the sobs from ripping through his chest. He keeps trying to tell himself it’s just a dream, just another one of those awful dreams. But that doesn’t stop the heavy, horrible sadness from settling in his chest. 

How did Bill let this happen? How’d he not realize that his feelings for Mike had changed so much? He knew it when he was falling for Bev; he could feel it happening every time he looked at her. 

But Mike? It almost feels like it came out of nowhere, like Mike just hit him all at once. But, Bill knows it’s probably been happening for much, much longer. 

Bill’s wanted a boy before. It’s only happened once, and it was fleeting; a small crush on a classmate last year, a jock named Austin, with dark eyes, messy black hair, who leaned over far too many times to ask Bill for his help. Bill remembers suddenly feeling shy and unsteady whenever he noticed Austin’s slick grin and the way his shirt would ride up when he stretched. 

The only other person Bill has had _real_ feelings for is Bev. And that was intense and true—but brief _._ By the beginning of that fall, he and Bev both realized they preferred being friends. 

There’s never been anything like _this._ Bill’s never wanted someone like he wants Mike right now. 

It’s not hard to see _why_ Bill would want Mike. How could someone _not_ want Mike? He’s smart, caring, always gentle, always warm. No one else in the world has Mike’s eyes, or his smile, or his voice, or his calloused hands. 

The problem isn’t wanting Mike like this. The problem is that wanting Mike is going to ruin their friendship. 

Mike’s going to hate him.

Bill drops his arm back into the bed and stares up at his ceiling. 

Mike’s too kind to _hate_ him, really. Bill can’t imagine Mike looking at him with that much venom or fire. He’ll probably let Bill down in the most gentle way possible. Bill can imagine Mike’s sad smile, his voice demure as tells Bill he just can’t feel the same way.

_I’m sorry, Bill . . ._ and Mike’s voice would be so soft and kind Bill wouldn’t even be able to be mad at it. He’ll just have to accept it. 

Maybe _that’s_ what these dreams are really about: realizing that Bill’s feelings for Mike are going to get in the way of their friendship. That Bill’s going to end up _hurting_ Mike by feeling this way about him. 

That’s not so farfetched. Bill’s gotten the people he loves hurt before. He got Georgie killed. The Losers have spent so much time telling Bill it wasn’t his fault. _Mike_ has spent so much time telling Bill that it wasn’t his fault, that he needs to forgive himself. But Bill’s never been able to get it go. Bill’s always felt like loving him and being loved by him comes with consequences. 

Bill doesn’t want that for Mike. He wants Mike to be happy, and if Bill’s feelings for him get in the way of that . . .

Bill looks over to the clock near his bed; 2:55 a.m. glares back at him. This time last week, Bill was curled up on a couch in a barn, watching the way a weak beam of light danced off of Mike’s eyes. Bill had let Mike believe it was the barn that inspired him to write, but it wasn’t. It was the light against Mike’s skin, the strength of Mike’s stare, the warmth of his body just a couple of feet away from Bill’s. 

It wasn’t the barn. It was Mike _._ It’s _always_ been Mike. And now Bill’s going to lose him.

###

Mike gets up and starts working on his chores before Leroy even goes downstairs to make breakfast. 

Leroy finds Mike weeding the big garden at around 6:30 in the morning. Mike’s on his hands and knees, yanking on a particularly stubborn weed, when Leroy approaches him. 

“So, this is a regular thing now? You being up at all hours of the morning?” 

Mike stops tugging but doesn’t turn around. Mike is not at all prepared to look his grandfather in the face right now. 

“I guess so,” Mike says with a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so . . .”

“This is getting to be a really bad habit, Mike,” Leroy says. “This isn’t good for you.” 

Mike feels Leroy move closer to him. Mike reaches down and pulls on the weed again, trying to rip it from its root. 

“I know you teenagers think you can stay up for days on end,” Leroy continues, “but you need rest _sometimes_. 

Mike pulls even harder, feeling more and more frustrated. 

“Staying up all night makes you foggy,” Leroy said. “It makes you slow, it’s even bad for your heart.”

Mike finally pulls the weed up, nearly knocking himself over in the process. He drops the weed to the ground and wipes at the sweat on his forehead.

“I _know_ , Granddad,” Mike sighs. “I know. I just _can’t_ sleep lately.”

“ _Mike_.”

Mike looks over his shoulder at Leroy. Leroy watches him back with concern. 

“Have you even eaten this morning?” Leroy asks. 

Mike shakes his head. Leroy sighs, clearly exasperated. 

“Go get some breakfast,” Leroy says. “After that, you need to lay back down.”

Mike frowns. “But, I need to finish the weeding and I gotta feed—”

“Your uncles can do that. _You_ obviously need to rest. And figure out what’s bothering you so much to begin with.” 

Mike looks at Leroy and almost wants to laugh. He _knows_ what’s bothering him. But he also knows he can’t ever tell Leroy what it is. 

Mike’s grandfather loves him. Mike has always known that. Even when Mike was younger and his grandfather was much tougher on him, Mike knew his grandfather loved him. But Mike also knows what a Baptist man in his 60s living in Derry would think about a boy who has feelings for another boy. Just because Leroy traded church services for Sunday morning chores doesn’t mean he stopped fiercely believing in the Word and what it has to say about certain types of love. 

Phillip may’ve told Mike he always has his back, but Phillip is an exception, not a rule. Leroy won’t be like Phillip, and Mike can’t take the risk. 

Mike stands up and knocks the dirt from his pants.

“Yes sir,” Mike mumbles. “Thank you.”

Leroy nods, but the look on his face doesn’t change. 

Mike walks into the house and drags himself to the kitchen. He eats a bowl of cereal and a banana he barely tastes. Then he goes back upstairs, puts his pajamas back on and flops down on his bed. He lies on his side, staring at the folded notebook paper still sitting on his bedside table. 

Mike hears the front door open and shut as he finally begins to drift off to sleep. 

###

It’s warm in Mike’s room when he wakes up. 

He still feels groggy as he sits up and swings his legs over his bed. Mike looks at his clock, staring at it until the red shapes form numbers. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon. Mike’s been asleep for _hours._

“Damn,” Mike mutters to himself. 

Mike stands up and stretches. He’s slept through whatever morning chores he had left. Mike imagines Howard having to do extra work and rolls his eyes. His uncle was probably _thrilled._

He takes off his pajamas and puts on work clothes. He might as well go downstairs and see if there’s something he can do. It’d be better than sitting up here all day, thinking too much. 

Mike leaves his room and plods down the stairs, listening for his grandfather and uncles. As he rounds the corner towards the kitchen, he hears Howard’s voice. 

“What’s _wrong_ with him, exactly?” Howard’s asking. “Why is he holed up in his room all day?”

Mike hears Leroy grunt as he walks closer to their voices. He finds them cleaning the kitchen, Leroy wiping down the kitchen counter while Howard sweeps the floor. 

“He’s under the weather,” Leroy says loosely. “And I didn’t see a point in trying to force him to work if he’s tired and doesn’t feel well.” 

Howard scoffs. “You baby him. He won't ever ‘feel well’ if you let him do stuff like this.”

Mike’s face goes hot. He knew Howard would have something to say. 

“I feel better now, though,” Mike says loudly. 

Howard and Leroy both jump, and Howard nearly drops the broom. Leroy blinks at Mike for a few long seconds before nodding.

“Good,” Leroy says. “Then you clean out the fridge for me. I don’t trust your uncle here to do it.” 

Howard avoids Mike’s eye as he resumes sweeping. That’s just fine by Mike. He says nothing as he steps around Howard and grabs a trash bag from a cabinet. Then Mike opens the fridge and starts tossing the old food into the bag. Mike sorts through old food and tries to ignore how trapped he feels. 

_What’s wrong with him, exactly?_

Mike almost wants to answer Howard. He almost wants to turn around and blurt out that he thinks he loves his best friend, that he thinks his best friend won’t ever love him the same way, that he knows there’s only one person in the world he can say any of this to because everyone else will judge and hate him for it. 

Mike thinks of last night—he thinks of _Bill_ —and bites the inside of his cheek. 

###

Bill skips school for two days. 

He walks just far enough that his parents won’t spot him. Then he doubles back and goes back inside and sprawls across his bed. Bill stares up at the ceiling as if he’ll find whatever he’s looking for up there. 

There’s no point in going to school. Bill wouldn’t be able to pay attention to anything, wouldn’t hear a word any teacher said. In one ear and out of the other.

So, Bill just lies there, staring at the ceiling. Thinking about Mike and his nightmares, then wishing he could think of anything else other than Mike and his nightmares. 

A couple of years ago, Bill’s every thought was about Georgie and _It._ Every part of his mind was devoted to the mystery, the fight, to protecting himself and his friends. And, in an odd way, that was easier for Bill to undertake than _this_ is. Pennywise was something Bill could put his hands on. It was tangible, It was _real_ , no matter what anyone said. And, at the end of it all, It was something Bill and the Losers could kill, something they could destroy with their own hands. 

But this isn’t anything like that. The way Bill feels about Mike, this feeling that just keeps growing and growing and growing—Bill’s no match for it. It’s no mystery to be solved, no monster that can be destroyed through cunning or anger or brute strength. 

Bill’s just in love. There’s no defeating that. 

###

Mike’s quiet as he works. 

Mike’s found that physical work helps ease his mind. It’s a distraction, he thinks: the coolness of the dirt, the noise of chicks and sheep, the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck and shoulders all mingle together and pull Mike out of his own mind. And Mike _desperately_ needs to be pulled out of his own mind.

So, he spends days working in silence, intensely focused on the strain of his back and legs and the feeling of heavy metal tools in his hands. He works without being asked, taking on chores usually reserved for Phillip and Howard. Mike works himself to exhaustion just so he can escape the chorus of thoughts creating cacophony in his mind.

It doesn’t work, though. 

Mike still only thinks of Bill. Of Bill’s voice, of the feeling of his hands on Mike’s arm, of all the small moments that should’ve given Mike a clue. Mike thinks of Bill and realizes that it’s becoming more and more impossible for Mike to pretend he doesn’t want what he wants. 

He can’t work himself out of being in love, can he? 

###

Bill paces around his room, feeling more anxious than he has in a long time. He walks so much his legs start to ache. 

It’s getting late; the sky has gone dark, and the streetlights have been on for hours now. Bill should’ve done this earlier in the day. He’d told himself he would do it when he got up. Hell, he should’ve done this earlier in the week, instead of waiting until Wednesday of all days. 

But he’d made excuses: Mike had work, right? He had school and chores he needed to get done. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away from his chores to see Bill. It made sense for Bill to hold off on calling him until later. He was trying to be at least somewhat considerate, right? 

But Bill knows himself better than this, and it’s ridiculous to think of himself as “considerate” when he’s about to blow up their friendship. Bill’s been putting it off for too long. He hasn’t called Mike yet because he doesn’t _want_ to. But he needs to. 

Bill’s been thinking about it for days now, turning it over and over in his mind. And he can see no way to avoid hurting Mike somehow. Bill’s not going to get over him any time soon; Bill knows that already. And confessing his feelings would just put them both in a bad, incredibly awkward position. 

The only solution that remains is for them to spend less time together. For Bill to stay away from Mike. 

There’s a small part of Bill’s brain that tells him this is ironic; Bill’s so worried about losing Mike that he’s actively pushing him away. But Bill knows it’s better to do _this_ now than it is to say or do something that’ll push Mike away forever. 

So, Bill forces himself to stop pacing. He takes a deep breath. And he picks up the phone.

###

Mike’s phone rings, and he instantly knows who it is. 

_Don’t answer_ , a voice quietly urges Mike. _Leave it alone._

Mike shouldn’t answer. Not answering is the smarter move. But—Bill. Mike can be dumb, sometimes, when it comes to Bill.

Mike picks up the phone, ignoring the loud sounds of his better judgement.

“Hello?”

“Hey, M-Mikey.” Bill sounds nervous, urgent. “Can I c-cah-come see you?” 

“What’s wrong?” Because Mike can hear that something is _very_ wrong, and it’s making him feel more anxious than he thought was possible.

“I just—” Bill sighs, making the line crackle. “I just r-r-really need to t-t-talk to you.” 

_Say no._ The voice in Mike’s mind is getting louder. _Say_ _no._ Mike can hear the trouble in Bill’s voice. He should say _no._

“Yeah. Yeah, come over.”

“Okay.” Bill sounds as breathless as Mike suddenly feels. “Okay. I see you soon.”

Mike hangs up and sighs. A feeling of doom descends on him. 

###

It’s cold out tonight. Much colder than Bill expected.

The wind whips Bill’s skin as he bikes to the Hanlon farm. This happens sometimes in Derry; spring just doesn’t want to let go and let summer take over, so it’ll throw in extra rain or a blast of frigid air. A bitter parting gift from a stubborn season. 

Bill shivers as he rides. He wonders how much of that actually has to do with the cold wind. 

He pedals Silver harder. Bill needs to get this over with. Maybe he’ll feel better once it’s done.

He doubts it. But still. 

The Hanlon farmhouse comes into view. Bill’s heart starts beating too fast. This is a bad idea; he should just turn around and go home. But he can’t do that. Bill’s here now. It’s too late to be a coward. 

Bill bikes to the back of the house and stops as Mike appears before his eyes, standing near the back stairs. Mike’s eyes shine in the moonlight, and Bill’s wildly-beating heart goes still. 

Mike is beautiful. He always has been.

“Bill?” Mike asks, quiet and earnest. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” 

Bill ducks his head, looks down at Mike’s scuffed sneakers. _I don’t wanna do this._

Mike touches Bill, his fingers gently wrapping around Bill’s wrist. 

“What’s wrong?” Mike asks. “Do you wanna go—”

“Mike.” Bill forces himself to look up and look Mike in the eye. “I need to t-tell you something. It’s about the druh-dr-dreams.” 

Mike looks at Bill with uncertainty. He slowly lets go of Bill’s wrist. Bill feels colder without Mike’s touch. 

“Okay,” Mike says. “What about it?”

Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he can. 

“I’ve had more. A couple of more. And they’re all worse than the la-last.” 

“Is it---” Mike falters. “Is it _him?_ The clown?”

“No!” Bill says quickly. “No, this isn’t about him, I don’t think. This is something really different, actually.” 

Mike shifts his weight from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable. But he nods for Bill to continue. 

Bill grips Silver’s handlebars. His stomach is starting to twist into knots.

“And I t-think.” Bill pauses, then forces the words out. “I think the dreams have been trying to tell me something about my-myself. About being f-friends with you.” 

Mike furrows his brow. “What do you mean?” 

“In all the dreams . . .” Bill bites the inside of his cheek. 

_Just say it. Rip the Bandaid off._

“In the druh-dreams, _I_ end up hurting you. Or causing something b-bad to happen to you. And it makes me think that’s a s-s-sign that I’m going to end up hurting you in _real_ life.” 

Mike stares at Bill for what feels like an eternity. Then he lets out a short, airy, shaky laugh. 

“What?” Mike asks, incredulous. “Why would you . . .” Mike shakes his head. “No. You wouldn’t _._ I _know_ you wouldn’t.”

Bill’s heart drops, heavy as a stone as it falls. He doesn’t deserve Mike’s confidence and trust in him. 

“I’m not so sure anymore, Mikey,” Bill confesses quietly. “And I don’t want to take the r-risk.” 

Mike goes tense and looks at Bill with narrowed eyes. 

“What does _that_ mean?” 

“I mean that—I mean that—” Bill takes another deep breath. “I _mean_ that I think it’d be best if me and you didn’t hang out so much. We should sta-sta- _stay away_ from each other. For a wh-while, at least.” 

Mike tilts his head and looks at Bill as if he’s suddenly spoken a language Mike can’t understand.

“You . . . you don’t want to see me anymore?” 

“I think it’d be _safer_ if I don’t s-see you for a while. If we just kept a distance fr-from each other.”

That does _not_ sound any better, Bill realizes. But it’s the best he can do. 

Mike keeps giving Bill that bewildered look. It makes Bill feel smaller and smaller. 

“So, what?” Mike presses. “Are we not _friends_ , now? Since you don’t want to hang out with me?”

“We _are_ friends!” Bill can hear the desperate in his own voice. “We are! We just— _I_ just can’t be around you.” 

A dreadful silence falls over them. Bill watches Mike’s face as he works through Bill’s words. Confusion, disbelief. Sadness. And, at the end, _hurt._

_Ironic_ , that small voice in the back of Bill’s mind whispers. _This was very_ _ironic._

“I don’t understand,” Mike says. “Why do you think you’d—I don’t _get_ this, Bill.”

“I know it probably doesn’t make a lot of s-sense,” Bill stammers. “And I know it seems like it’s outta no-no-nowhere, but—”

“I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.” Mike gives Bill a hard stare. “There’s something else to this.” 

A wave of guilt and sadness hits Bill as he looks at Mike. Mike has always seen right through him. 

And, for one painful second, Bill wants to tell Mike _everything._ He wants to tell Mike how much he loves him, how he knows loving Mike this much, in this way, will only ruin everything. Bill wants to be brave enough to be fully honest and just face the consequences, whatever they may be.

But he can’t. 

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Bill says. That’s all he _can_ say. “I’m sorry.”

Mike blinks at Bill. Even in the pale moonlight and the weak glow of the back porch light, Bill can clearly see Mike’s face turning red. 

“Just . . .” Mike sighs and closes his eyes. Like he can’t stand to look at Bill. “If it’s something _I’ve_ done, or something I’ve said—”

“N-no!” Bill says. “No, it’s n-not! I promise. It’s just something I need to d-do.” 

Mike opens his eyes slowly. The look on his face—the resignation, the disappointment—makes Bill feel sick. 

“Alright, then, Bill,” Mike says, his voice more flat than Bill’s ever heard it. “Goodbye.”

Before Bill can say anything else, Mike turns around and walks back into the house. The door closes loudly behind him.

Bill’s left alone, staring at the space his best friend stood. 

And after too many long, long moments, Bill rides home, tears rushing down his cold face.


	8. Chapter 8

Mike doesn’t cry. Not right away.

Mike goes back into the house, back upstairs to the bathroom and doesn’t cry. He splashes water on his face and doesn’t cry. He goes into his room, puts on his pajamas and lies in bed in complete darkness and doesn’t cry. He lies awake for the rest of the night, staring at nothing, and doesn’t cry.

It’s not until dawn, when Mike rolls over and notices that folded piece of notebook paper, still laying on his bedside table, that Mike starts to cry. 

Mike slams his hand over his mouth and shuts his eyes tightly, but it doesn’t stop the tears or the sobs. Mike curls himself and begs himself to stop, _please,_ stop crying, because he can hear his grandfather walking heavily through the house, and Mike knows he has to see him in a few short moments. 

But Mike can’t stop: he cries and cries and cries, his body quaking with it. 

_I just can’t be around you._

Bill said that to Mike. Bill really looked Mike in his face and said that. Worse yet, Bill wasn’t even being honest about why he said it. 

Bill was lying. Mike could tell he was lying. Either that, or he was leaving something very important out. Since when does Bill feel like he can’t talk to him? Since when can Bill look Mike in the eyes and tell him he doesn’t want Mike to be around anymore? How is any of this happening? 

Mike thinks back to that night in the barn, when they sat in the cool darkness and told each other they’d do anything to protect one another. If this is Bill’s way of protecting Mike from some unknown danger, why doesn’t it feel like it? Why does it feel like the exact opposite? 

Mike thinks about Phillip catching them in the barn, that excruciating conversation and the excruciating days that came after. If Mike’s feelings for Bill had been so obvious to Phillip, why wouldn’t they have been obvious to _Bill?_

How does Mike know that Bill didn’t realize that Mike loves him and decided he didn’t want to be around Mike anymore? 

Because why _would_ Bill want to be around Mike? Why wouldn’t he feel weird and uncomfortable around Mike if he realized Mike wants him like _that?_

What if _that’s_ what meant Bill meant by “hurting” Mike? What if Bill meant he’d be hurting Mike by not wanting him the same way? What if Bill’s trying to save Mike the embarrassment and pain of getting his heart broken like that? 

But how could Bill not see that _this_ hurts, too? 

Mike takes deep, slow breaths and rubs at his eyes with the back of his arm. He needs to get up, he needs to stop crying. 

Mike needs to get over it. He doesn’t have a choice but to get over it now.

###

Bill doesn’t want to see anyone at school. He woke up this morning with a pounding headache and an ache in the middle of his chest. Bill keeps remembering Mike’s face, the _look_ Mike gave him. It’s all he could see when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep last night.

Bill tries to hide from the Losers, and he manages it for a while. But they find him, anyway. 

Stan and Eddie pounce on him in the hallway, following him all the way to fourth period. Stan’s “Where have you _been?_ ” and “Are you okay?” mix in with Eddie’s “Are you sick? Because some people have been getting these weird 48-hour bugs where they _think_ they’re better, but they’re really not, and they’re still contagious.” 

And, really, Bill doesn’t know what to say to either of them. 

He knows what a part of him _wants_ to say. There’s a part of Bill that wants to let every single thought about Mike that’s been nagging him spill out of his mouth. There’s a part of him that wants to talk and talk and talk until he feels at least a little less miserable. 

But that part of Bill is small and getting smaller still. 

So, he shrugs and says, “I just didn’t feel c-coming,” and it’s as honest as he can get right now. 

Neither of them are convinced; Bill can tell by the way they glance at each other. But it’s all Bill’s got. 

###

“Hey, have you talked to Mike lately?”

Ben asks the question while he, Stan and Bill are at lunch, and Bill’s chest starts to hurt. Ben says it so casually, like he doesn’t realize what he's asking. 

_Because he doesn’t_ , Bill reminds himself harshly. He has no idea. 

“I tried to call him yesterday,” Ben continues, “but he didn’t answer. He’s okay, isn’t he?”

That look. Bill blinks, and he sees _that look._

Bill bites his tongue hard and nods. 

“Yeah,” he says slowly, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady. “He’s just been busy, I think. Farm stuff.”

Ben nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. Stan frowns at his sandwich.

“It feels like he’s _always_ working, now,” Stan says. “It’s like we barely see him.”

Bill blinks at Stan, then forces his eyes down. He’s just now realizing the other Losers are going to see Mike even _less_ now, and that’s all thanks to Bill. 

“Yeah,” Bill mutters under his breath. 

If Stan and Ben notice that Bill goes quiet for the rest of lunch, they don’t say anything. 

###

Bill stays quiet. He stays quiet for the rest of that day, then the next, then the next, then the next. 

The Losers _want_ to ask; Bill can see it in the way they glance over to them, he can hear it in the innocent questions they ask. He can hear really clearly whenever Stan or Ben or Bev ask if he’s talked to Mike at all. 

They want to ask, but they never do. Bill’s grateful for that. 

###

Mike needs to return _Something Wicked This Way Comes._

Mike wakes up with a start as his alarm blares. He groans in frustration as he gropes around for the alarm. He finally slams his hand on it, feeling very satisfied as the racket finally stops. 

That short, good feeling vanishes when Mike finally opens his eyes and sees that book, though. 

Today’s the due date, Mike realizes as he stares at the book laying next to his alarm clock. If he drags his feet, he’ll end up having to pay a late fee. 

Mike gets up slowly, a drag in his body as he moves. He picks the book up and thumbs through it. Mike never finished reading it. He stopped after—

The folded notebook paper, now creased and wrinkled, flutters to the ground. 

Right. Yeah, Mike stopped reading after _that._

It’s Saturday; it’s been almost a week since Bill came over. It feels much, mucher longer than a week. Time’s moved as slow as the thick cod liver oil his grandmother used to make him take every morning, and it’s left just as bitter of a taste in Mike’s mouth. Mike doesn’t even know what’s been doing with himself all week. 

Mike picks the paper up and shoves it into his drawer. There’s a quiet, cruel voice in the back of his mind that reminds him that he calls Bill on Saturday mornings. He calls Bill, and they talk, and then they see each other for hours and hours afterwards. 

But today’s not a normal Saturday.

So, Mike will go into his bathroom and get ready for his chores. He’ll work, and he’ll pull himself together, and he’ll make himself be just fine. 

Down the hall, Leroy’s door slams shut, and Mike can hear him walking down the stairs.

Mike sighs and leaves his room. 

###

Later, Leroy blinks at Mike in confusion when Mike tells him he needs to go to the library. 

“Just to return this,” Mike says, waving the book. “I won’t be gone long.”

Leroy just blinks at Mike again, and it’s only then that Mike realizes that he hasn’t spoken more than two words at a time to his grandfather in days. 

“You going _alone_?” Leroy finally asks. 

Mike nods. Leroy frowns very deeply, and he looks even more confused. It makes Mike feel even worse.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so,” Mike promises. 

“Okay,” Leroy says, sounding very skeptical, indeed. “Be careful.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike says, and he leaves before this can become any more uncomfortable. 

Mike grabs his bike and rides to the library as quickly as possible. He goes inside and hands the librarian the book as quickly and politely as possible. Then, Mike gets back on his bike and rides away, pedaling as hard and quickly as possible. 

The longer Mike’s out and about, the higher his chances are of running into the other Losers—and _Bill_ —somewhere. He just wants to get home. 

###

Mike decides to take a longer route, off the beaten path and closer to the woods.

There used to be a time where Mike would stay far away from the woods; going through the woods would get him jumped, and he’d end up limping home with bruises and scratches he’d have to hide. 

So much has changed since then. Too much, honestly. 

Mike stays on the thinner side of the woods, bobbing and weaving through the thinner trees. Mike’s finally starting to relax when he hears a loud, unmistakable voice that stops him in his tracks.

“Shut _up_ , Richie! You’re so dumb!”

_Eddie._

Mike stands still, glued to the spot. He scans the trees, looking for his friends. If he can hear Eddie that clearly, that means they’re closer than Mike would like them to be. 

Mike’s eyes land on a spot of blue floating down the way and his stomach drops: it’s definitely Eddie, walking through the woods with Richie right on heels. It’s just the two of them. Mike can’t see or hear any of the other Losers (Bill _,_ where is _Bill?)_ following behind them. 

“That’s not nice, Edward,” Richie’s saying. “You keep hurting my feelings.” 

“ _Good_ ,” Eddie shoots back. “Because you’re fucking annoying.”

Shit, they’re heading in Mike’s direction. Mike glances around, trying to figure out the best way to duck out of the way without making any noise. But before he can move, he sees Richie wrap an arm around Eddie and push him against one of the trees. 

Eddie yelps, but he doesn’t sound upset. Actually, he _laughs._ What are they _doing?_

“ _Rich-ie!”_ Eddie whines, but it’s a happy sound, and Eddie laughs as Richie crowds him against a tree.

Richie beams, grinning harder than Mike’s ever seen. He says something to Eddie, and his voice is too low for Mike to catch, but it gets a loud giggle out of Eddie. 

Richie looks at Eddie, dazed, still grinning. Then he kisses Eddie. 

Mike just stands there watching them, so shocked that he forgets to be worried about being seen. 

_What?_ Since when are Richie and Eddie . . .

Eddie looks like his whole body is going limp as he kisses Richie back. And they—they’ve done this a thousand times before. Mike can tell by how _easy_ it looks. How natural it looks. How _right_ it looks _._

Mike watches them, surprised and flustered. Then, out of nowhere, something else hits Mike square in his chest: _jealousy._ An overwhelming feeling of jealousy. 

Mike’s not used to the feeling, but the heat in his face and in the tight knot twisting in on itself in his stomach can’t be anything _but_ jealousy. Because—Richie and Eddie are _together._ Richie likes Eddie and Eddie likes him back. They wanted to be together, and so they’re together. 

And then there’s Mike. Reeling, alone as he’s always been, and _sad._ So damn sad because the boy he wants to be with would rather they keep their distance from one another. 

It’s pitiful. It’s absolutely pathetic. 

Richie pulls away from Eddie, that big grin spreading across his face again. But then he freezes, and his fall faces. And he looks up right at Mike.

Oh, right: Mike is intruding. He shouldn’t be here. 

Richie’s eyes go wide and _wild_ , and he looks more scared than Mike thought was even possible. Eddie turns around, too, and Mike _finally_ remembers how to move.

He turns around and bikes away, pedaling hard, trying to ignore the heat in his face, the stinging in his eyes, and the heavy feeling settling in his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

Bill wishes he’d stayed at home.

He only came to the quarry because Ben suggested it and everyone else really wanted to go. Bill didn’t have an excuse to not come. Not a _good_ one, at least. 

And so, Bill’s here, sitting on the rocks, staring at the ripples of the water as Bev, Ben and Stan chase and splash water on each other. Eddie’s gone home, something about his mother demanding he be home at a certain time for a certain reason. Richie decided to ride home with him, although Bill suspects it’s just so he can bother Eddie uninterrupted. 

Bill wishes he’d gone with them so that he doesn’t have to be sitting here watching the water and remembering the feeling of sharp rocks digging into knees, or the feeling of his fingers around Mike’s wrist. The feeling of Mike looking right at him and saying _Let. Me. Go._

Mike didn’t call today. Why would he call, after what Bill told him? He’s just doing what Bill said they should do. 

The other Losers asked Bill about where Mike was, was he coming along, why _isn’t_ he coming along? And all Bill could do was lie on Mike’s behalf. Really, he was lying on his _own_ behalf, wasn’t he? 

Bill watches the water rippling and jumping around his friends’ bodies. He wishes he could stop thinking about Mike. 

“Whatca thinking about up here?”

Bill startles. He didn’t even notice Bev swimming over to him. She climbs out of the water and sits down next to Bill, peering at him curiously. Bill feels flustered. He feels _exposed._

“Nothing,” he lies with a shrug. “I’m just s-s-sitting here, I guess.” 

Bev hums. Bill can see her filing his lie away in her mind. 

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Bev says. “Just sitting real quiet. You got a lot on your mind?” 

Bill looks away from Bev, his eyes landing on the water again. He watches the water for two seconds before turning his gaze to the dirt beneath his feet. 

“No more than u-u-usual, I guess.”

Bev nods, but she doesn’t say anything. She turns and looks out at the water. Without having to follow her line of sight, Bill knows Bev is watching Ben. Bill’s noticed Bev and Ben do that sometimes; that they watch each other, that she laughs at his goofy jokes more, that they sit a little closer together. Bill thinks it’s nice, most times. Today, it just makes him feel sorry for himself. And then he feels like he’s doing something wrong by feeling sorry for himself.

“Bill . . . do you remember when we first decided to just be friends?” Bev asks.

Bill blinks. He remembers it more vividly than he’d like to.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you remember how we thought things were gonna be really awkward, but we eventually figured it out?” 

“Yeah . . .” Bill says. “Bev, why are we talking about this?”

Bev laughs softly and shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how we made it harder than it needed to be at first. Everything was fine once we got our shit together.”

Bill snorts but nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“Which means,” Bev continues, and she turns to look at him again, “that whatever is going on with you and _Mike_ will be fine whenever you guys get _your_ shit together.” 

Bill’s stomach seems to plummet to his feet, and he feels an almost overpowering desire to dive headfirst into the water. Bev just watches him, blinking innocently. 

“Wh-wha—” Bill swallows, despite knowing it’ll do no good. “Why do you—why do you think—”

“Bill,” Bev says patiently, “I can tell _something_ is up. You’ve been radio silent for at least a week, and Mike is avoiding us.” 

Bill just looks at Bev. He’s reaching far into his mind, scrambling to piece together some excuse or explanation. But, there is none. He knows it, and she’ll know it, too.

“Mike’s not avoiding _us._ He’s avoiding _me_ ,” Bill admits with a sigh. “And it’s my fa-fault. I t-t-told him to.” 

Bev looks incredibly confused. It makes Bill feel even more self-conscious. 

“Why would you tell him to do something like that?” 

Bill shifts around and looks at the ground again. He focuses on a tiny rock just near his hand. The memory of that nightmare makes the back of Bill’s neck prickle. 

“I d-don’t want to talk about it,” Bill mumbles. “Not r-r-right n-now.”

Bill doesn’t look up at Bev. He’s being ridiculous, he thinks. This is making things worse. How is this supposed to make Bev want to drop the issue? 

But Bev doesn’t push; she just puts her hot hand on Bill’s.

“Alright,” she says, her voice soft. “But, call me whenever you _do_ want to talk about it, okay?” 

Bill doesn’t trust his voice, so he just nods. 

It’s enough for Bev. She gives his hand a squeeze, leaving hot pressure on his skin. Then she slides off of the rock and back into the water, swimming towards Ben and Stan. 

Bill watches her go with a heavy feeling in his chest. 

###

Phillip is pulling up in front of the house when Mike makes it home.

And Mike just freezes. His face is still hot, his eyes are still stinging, and he _really_ didn’t want anyone to be outside when he got home. Mike just wants to go to his room and curl up in a ball. He wants this moment, and the moment after, and whatever moment comes after to be over with already. 

Phillip gets out of his truck, slamming the door. The gravel crunches beneath his shoes as he turns and spots Mike. Phillip smiles and starts to wave, but Mike can see his expression change as he takes in the look on Mike’s face. Mike watches Phillip back. He knows Phillip can see every emotion playing across his face, but Mike can’t make himself look away.

Leroy walks out of the door as Phillip and Mike stand there staring at each other.

“Hey there, son,” Leroy says to Phillip. “I thought you were gonna come by later today. You must’ve did your shopping earlier.”

Phillip blinks and then turns to Leroy.

“I, uh, actually just realized I forgot something at the store,” Phillip says. Then, he nods in Mike’s direction. “Do you mind if I borrow my nephew? Just to run back with me real quick?”

Leroy looks at Mike. “Well, does your nephew _want_ to be borrowed?”

Mike nods. He knows when he’s being rescued. 

“Yes, sir, it’s fine.”

Leroy nods and looks at Phillip. “Alright, then. Just make sure you return him in one piece.” 

“Will do,” Phillip says, giving Leroy a bright grin. He looks at Mike with that same grin. “Let’s go, kid.” 

Mike rushes to put his bike away. Then, he slides into the passenger seat of his uncle’s truck. 

###

Bill spends his entire bike ride home trying to talk himself out of calling Bev. He tells himself it’s not really her business. He tells herself that she has other things to think about than Bill’s problems. He tells himself he doesn’t know how she’ll react or if she’ll tell everyone else about Bill’s feelings for Mike.

Bill tells himself all of these things that he knows aren’t true. 

Because Bev is understanding, smart, and she’s always been a good person to Bill. She’s not going to attack him. She’s probably going to tell him he’s being dumb, but she won’t try to _hurt_ him. 

By the time he’s home and has put Silver away, Bill’s head is pounding, and his hands are trembling. He needs to get it out. And if there’s anyone else he trusts with something like this, it’s Bev. 

So, Bill marches into his room, picks up the phone and dials Bev’s number. 

Bev answers on the first ring.

“Spill, Denbrough.”

And spill he does.

###

Once Mike starts talking to Phillip, he can’t stop.

Phillip drives them away from town, going way out and parking the truck on a spot past the edge of the Hanlon property. Mike sits in the passenger seat and starts blathering, going on about Bill and his feelings and him never even wanting to kiss or touch a girl but wanting to be _close_ with boys. Mike talks even when he wants to stop, even when he can hear himself getting too close to the parts of the truth Phillip could _never_ understand. 

That Phillip is able to piece together a coherent story from Mike’s rambling just shows how good of a listener he is. 

When Mike is finally done, Phillip gives him a soft look and a frown. 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Mike,” he says. “I know it must be really, really hard.” 

“Yeah,” Mike says with a long, tired sigh. “It is.”

“ _But_ ,” Phillip continues, “I think what you’re really dealing with is a big moment of miscommunication.”

Mike frowns at Phillip. Bill telling Mike they should stay away from each other seemed like pretty clear communication to Mike. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re _assuming_ that Bill knows how you feel about him and he doesn’t feel the same way. But you don’t actually _know_ if either of those things are true.” 

Mike blinks at Phillip as frustration begins to rise in him. Maybe Phillip isn’t that good of a listener after all.

“Why _else_ would Bill want me to stay away from him?” Mike asks. He can’t think of too many other options, apart from the threat of the clown. 

“Mike,” Phillip says, his voice full of patience. “Have you ever considered that Bill feels the same way about you that you feel about him? And that _he’s_ the one that’s afraid of being rejected?” 

And Mike just stares at Phillip for a moment. Because _no_. It hasn’t. Not once, if Mike really thinks about it.

“ . . . Should it have occurred to me?” Mike asks slowly. 

Phillip sighs and looks at Mike kindly. 

“Oh, nephew,” he says. “You never once thought that he could love you back?” 

Why would Mike think that? Mike can’t imagine Bill feeling _this_ way about him. 

“Why would he?” Mike asks. 

He doesn’t mean to ask it aloud, but it’s out there, now. Phillip looks at Mike like his question offended him.

“What the hell do you mean ‘Why would he?’” Phillip demands. “Why _wouldn’t_ he? Don’t be out here selling yourself short! You’re smart, you’re charming, you’re good-looking, and you’re good to people. He’s blessed to have you. Any boy would be.” 

Mike ducks his head, caught somewhere between flattered and embarrassed. It’d be nice to believe Phillip, but thousands of words of doubt are still nagging Mike. The back of his mind is crowded with them. 

“Bill doesn’t even _like_ boys,” Mike says. “Not like that.”

“You don’t know that,” Phillip retorts. “I imagine he thinks the same thing about you. The only way either of you would know for certain is if you were to _ask._ ”

Mike feels a pain in his core at Phillip’s words, and he sinks into the passenger seat. The very thought of even bringing this up to Bill is terrifying. 

“That’s not something you can just _ask,_ though,” Mike says quietly. 

Phillip’s quiet for a moment. Then he nods and sighs.

“Trust me,” he says, “I _completely_ understand.”

Wait. Mike sits up straighter and looks over at his uncle. Phillip’s not saying what Mike _thinks_ he’s saying, is he?

“You do?” 

Phillip scoffs and rubs his eyes. 

“Yeah, I do. This is actually _very_ similar to what happened before I got with my first boyfriend. We were just as awkward.”

Mike freezes and his mouth falls open. 

“Your first . . .” 

Mike can hardly process the words. It seems to take an eternity to piece it together.

“Philip, you’re . . . are you _gay?_ ” 

Phillip laughs. He sounds more nervous than anything else. 

“What’s that expression? ‘Gay as God’s children on Sunday morning’ or something silly like that?” 

Mike looks at Phillip. He _really_ looks at Phillip, trying to weave this new information into the tapestry of who Phillip is. Phillip tells corny jokes, like Leroy. Phillip likes to read sci-fi novels. Phillip is afraid of heights, even though he doesn’t like to admit it.

And Phillip is gay—like Mike. 

“Does Granddad know?” Mike asks quietly, even though he knows the answer.

Sure enough, Phillip shakes his head. 

“Hell, _Howard_ doesn’t even know,” Phillip grumbles. “I never thought I could tell _anyone._ Besides from, you know, certain men. I’ve always been a little . . . worried about people’s reaction.”

Mike thinks of the way Howard looks at him sometimes, the way Howard sounds when he mentions Mike’s _friend._ He thinks of Howard’s tone, of the way he _always_ has something to say about Mike lately. Phillip is right to be concerned, Mike thinks. 

Then, Mike thinks of Richie and Eddie, laughing and smiling and kissing in the woods. Their happiness shattered when Richie realized Mike was watching them.

“That’s not fair,” Mike says. “That we have to be like that.” 

“It’s not,” Phillip says. “It’s not fair at all. It’s exhausting, really. But that’s why you hold on to people who you _can_ be totally honest and safe with. You hold on to the people you love that love you back.”

“And you think that’s Bill for me?”

Mike can’t help but ask. He can’t help but be a little doubtful. A little scared. 

Phillip nods, resolute.

“I _know_ it is,” he says. “I could tell just from the way he was looking at you in your little secret barn hideout.”

Mike snorts at the memory. He’d been absolutely petrified that day, and he hadn’t even fully acknowledged why. 

“Look,” Phillip continues, “all I’m saying is that you should talk to him. Be honest with him, let him be honest with you. If he’s got any sense at all, it’ll work out.”

Mike has every reason to not believe Phillip. He has every reason to believe Bill can’t return his feelings, that they won’t ever go back to being friends the way they had been. 

But he _wants_ to believe they can be something more. 

So, Mike sighs.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

###

When Bill finally stops talking—when he’s finally done spilling his guts about the nightmares, the look on Mike’s face, feeling the warmth of Mike’s body—he hears Bev take a deep, long breath.

“Bill,” Bev says kindly, “you’re an idiot.” 

Bill winces. He expected as much. 

“ _But_ ,” Bev continues, “you’re not an idiot for the reason you think you are.” 

Bill frowns into the phone receiver. That’s not where he thought this was going. 

“Wh-what do you m-mean?” 

“What I mean is that _you_ think you’re an idiot because you couldn’t figure out a way to just be friends with Mike and not hurt him in any way, right?” 

“Right?” Bill says with uncertainty. He’d been so sure of himself before he made this phone call.

“Well, no, that’s wrong _,_ ” Bev says in a matter-of-fact tone. “The _real_ reason you’re an idiot is that you _assumed_ that Mike wouldn’t feel the same way as you instead of finding out how he _actually_ feels.”

Bill shifts on his bed and he draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his free arm around them. How Mike _actually_ feels? The words don’t compute in Bill’s mind. What else would Mike feel for Bill, except discomfort and pity? 

“He _wouldn’t_ feel the same way, Bev,” Bill says. 

Bill can practically hear Bev rolling her eyes on the other end. 

“Did he _tell_ you that?” Bev asks. “Has he ever said or done anything that proves that?”

Bill goes quiet as he thinks. In all his moments with Mike, in all the times they’ve laughed and shouted and cried or done absolutely nothing at all, Mike’s never shown Bill anything but warmth and kindness. Mike’s never shown Bill anything other than love.

But, it’s not the same type of love that Bill feels. Is it?

“Mike doesn’t like guys,” Bill tries, but even to his own ears it sounds weak.

“You don’t _know_ that. You don’t know anything,” Bev argues. “Does Mike know that _you_ like guys? Have you mentioned that to anyone else other than me?” 

“N-no.” Bill hugs his knees closer. “I haven’t t-t-told anyone.”

“Exactly. The only way you’d _know_ is if you guys talk about it.”

Bill goes hot, and his heart begins to pound in his chest. 

“Bev, I—I just d-d-don’t know,” Bill says. 

They sit in silence. Bill feels more agitated with each quiet moment that passes. 

“Bill?” Bev eventually says. “You know why I think you were having those dreams? The real reason?”

“Why?” But Bill gets the feeling he knows what she’s about to say. 

“I don’t think they were so much about you hurting Mike,” Bev says. “I think you had them because _you’re scared._ You’re scared of your own feelings and what they mean, so now you’re running from them.”

And Bill can’t argue with her. Because he knows she’s right. That’s what it’s been the whole time. 

“Scared” isn’t even the word. Bill’s _terrified._

“I can’t help it,” Bill admits, in a voice so quiet he thinks Bev may not hear him. 

But she does. 

“I get _why_ you’re so scared,” Bev says. “But just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you can go and hurt Mike’s feelings like that. Mike doesn’t deserve that.” 

“I _know_ ,” Bill groans. “I know. I feel so selfish and dumb. What if he never forgives me? What if he decides he doesn’t want to be my friend at all now?” 

“That doesn’t sound like Mike,” Bev says, “but _,_ if he _does_ , you gotta let him do what he needs to do.”

Bill screws his eyes shut, closing them tight like it’ll keep the possibility away. The worst scenarios keep popping up in Bill’s mind: Mike telling him he’ll never forgive him, Mike telling him he never wants to speak to Bill again. 

And, of course, Mike telling Bill he doesn’t love him back. 

“I am so s-scared, Bev,” Bill whispers, his voice cracking. 

“I know,” Bev says, her voice soft and warm. “But I think it’s gonna be okay.”

“You really t-think so? Really?”

“Yes, I do,” Bev confirms. “Just as long as you be brave and don’t fuck up, you know?”

Bill laughs. It’s shaky, because his nerves are absolutely shot. But he still laughs.

“Yeah,” he says. “I kn-know.” 

###

Mike’s quiet for the rest of the day. He and Phillip work alongside Leroy and Howard in silence, moving around each other with ease. 

Mike can feel Leroy and Howard shooting them looks as they work, trying to decipher what exactly is going on with them. Mike doesn’t pay them any mind, though. He’s got their conversation running through his mind. He’s got Richie and Eddie and every boy Mike’s ever _looked_ at on his mind. 

And then there’s Bill. Like always, there’s Bill. 

But even with all that, Mike feels better. He feels lighter, a little bit freer. It’s nice to know he’s not as alone as he thought he was. 

Phillip looks over at Mike as they get ready for dinner, and he gives Mike a small smile. Mike smiles back. 

###

Bill falls asleep with the words echoing in his mind, growing louder and louder.

_Be brave._

It sounds easy. It probably _should_ be easy. Bill stood with his friends and faced the demonic clown that killed his brother. They were all brave then. He can be brave, now.

It’s the “don’t fuck up” part that sounds impossible. 

But, Bill doesn’t want to hold on to the doubt. He’s tired of it and the way it ruins things before they can even start. 

So, Bill tries to shove it far into the back of his mind, past all the nightmares. And he listens to those two words instead, letting them lull him to sleep. 

Be brave. Be brave. _Be brave._

###

It’s past noon Sunday, the sun high and burning in the sky, when Mike hears Leroy call his name from the living room.

“Michael Hanlon! I need you to come here, please!” 

Mike frowns as he stops sweeping the back stairs and walks into the house. He can’t think of anything he forgot to do inside. Was he supposed to be sweeping the front stairs instead? No, he’s sure Leroy said the back stairs, because he made a comment about them not tracking mud in the house. 

Mike’s still trying to sort it out when he walks into the living room and sees Leroy standing at the front door. 

Leroy looks at Mike and nods towards the doorway. 

“Someone here to see you,” he says.

Leroy steps aside to reveal Richie, looking more nervous and shy than Mike’s ever seen in his entire time of knowing Richie. 

Mike thinks he really shouldn’t be surprised but he feels a jolt to his chest anyway. 

“Oh!’ Mike says. “Hey, Richie. What’s up?”

Richie gives him half a smile. “Hey, Mike.” 

Damn, Richie doesn’t even _sound_ like himself. He sounds so timid. Richie shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and Mike can see his fingers fidgeting.

“Can we, um, talk outside?” Richie asks, and he glances over to Leroy.

Mike looks over at his grandfather, too. Mike can’t read Leroy’s face; he’s got this peculiar look as he watches Mike back.

“By all means,” Leroy says. “Handle your business, grandson.” 

Leroy crosses the living room, patting Mike’s shoulder as he walks past. Mike waits until he hears Leroy walk into the kitchen before he looks Richie in the face again.

“Come on,” Mike says. He walks past Richie and beckons him to follow.

Mike hears Richie falter, but he follows closely behind him. 

###

They sit in the middle of the field, far enough away from the house so that no one can overhear them, but also far enough away from the stables so that Richie doesn’t have to run away from any animals. 

Richie won’t look up at Mike at first. He stares down at his crossed legs, picking pieces of grass. Mike can wait; he gets how hard this is. 

“I, um,” Richie finally says, “I need to talk to you. About yesterday.”

“. . . About you and Eddie?” Mike slowly suggests. 

Richie nods, the movement harsh and jerky.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Um. Eddie.” 

Richie makes a muffled noise, a stifled sigh of frustration. Mike tilts his head down, lowering it so that he can try to catch Richie’s eye.

“Richie?” Mike says. “It’s okay.” 

Richie looks up sharply. His cheeks are tinted red and his eyes have gone wide. Mike recognizes the feeling on Richie’s face. He knows that fear _very_ well by now. 

“It’s _okay_ ,” Mike repeats. “You can tell me.”

Richie blinks. Then, he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, so, Eddie and I are a _thing_ ,” Richie says. “Yeah, we’re . . . we’re a thing.”

Mike nods. “How long have you been a thing?”

Richie squirms around on the grass. “ . . . A few months?”

“ _Really?_ ” 

Mike thinks back, trying to remember the last few times he’s seen Richie and Eddie. They’re always together, sometimes acting a little odd around the rest of the Losers. He mostly remembers a lot of bickering and them being left alone together— _oh._

Well, it seems a little obvious now.

Richie blanches but nods. “We said we weren’t gonna tell anyone because we didn’t know what you guys would say. And when I saw you yesterday, and you ran off . . . ”

Mike’s heart sinks at Richie’s words. He thinks about what he told Phillip yesterday. _That’s not fair. That we have to be like that._

“I hate that you felt like that,” Mike says. “And I’m sorry I scared you. But you’re one of my best friends. That doesn’t change because you and Eddie are together.” 

Richie nods but looks at Mike warily. 

“And it doesn’t . . . _bother_ you? Me and Eddie both being . . . you know. Gay?”

Mike looks at Richie. He could simply say “No,” and that’ll end this conversation. Richie will feel better, and Mike will be able to continue to keep his secret to himself for the time being. It would be the easy thing to do. 

But, it doesn't feel like the _right_ thing to do.

So, Mike shakes his head. Then, he shrugs.

“I mean,” Mike says, “I’m gay, and I’m in love with Bill, so it’d be pretty messed up for me to hate on you and Eddie.”

Richie stares at Mike like he didn’t understand a word Mike said. 

“You’re fucking with me,” Richie says. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

Mike shakes his head again. “Nope. It’s true.” 

Richie says nothing. Then he falls over.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Richie yells as he crashes into the grass. He sprawls out on his back and stares at Mike with his mouth wide open. “ _Holy shit, Mike!_ ”

Mike lies down carefully and stretches out on the grass next to Richie.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s really something.”

“Hell, yeah, it is,” Richie says. “Wait, so, you and Bill are boning?” 

“ _No,_ Richie, _jeez_ ,” Mike says, and he can feel his face burning. “We’re not doing anything like that right now.”

Richie quirks an eyebrow at Mike. “Is that why Bill’s acting so moody and weird? Because he’s got blue balls? Why don’t you guys just, you know, take care of that?” And he makes a hand gesture Mike can only describe as crude. 

“Beep beep, Rich,” Mike says, deeply flustered. Then, he realizes what Richie’s just said. “Wait. ‘Moody and weird?’” 

Richie nods, getting grass in his black curls.

“ _Super_ moody and _super_ weird,” Richie says. “Ever since you stopped hanging out with us, he’s been moping around and acting more uptight than Stan’s dad.” 

Mike grimaces. He didn’t exactly expect Bill to be _happy,_ but he didn’t expect to hear that Bill’s not doing well. The idea of Bill of walking around quiet and curled up on himself upsets Mike. 

“I didn’t realize,” Mike mumbles.

“Shit’s kinda bad, man,” Richie says. “Are you guys in a fight or something?” 

“Or something,” Mike answers with a shrug. “I think we just gotta talk about it. I mean, I still don’t even know if Bill _likes_ me like that.” 

Richie rolls over on his side and narrows his eyes at Mike.

“I’m gonna guess that he _does_ ,” Richie says. “Because that would explain why he’s been looking like a sad puppy. Plus, now all those times you guys were doing nerdy stuff without us makes a lot more sense.”

Mike rolls over on his side, propping up his head up with his hand.

“You’re one to talk,” Mike says. “You and Eddie _start arguments_ just so you can go off alone together.”

“Hey, _he_ starts them!” Richie argues. “I just go along with it. It’s kinda fun sometimes.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “I don’t think arguing with your boyfriend is supposed to be _fun_ , Richie.” 

Richie smiles. It’s that same dazed look from yesterday.

“Yeah, but Eddie’s cute when he’s all mad and stuff,” Richie says. 

Mike turns his nose up at the level of affection on Richie’s face. Is that what he looks like when he’s talking about Bill? Yikes. 

“I should tell him you said that,” Mike says. 

“Go ahead!” Richie says, his grin even wider. “Then he’ll get madder and cuter!”

Mike groans. “I hope I’m not like _this_ with Bill.”

“Oh, fuck off, you guys are gonna be _worse_ ,” Richie retorts. “Bill’s a writer, he’s probably gonna leave you a gross love letter or some shit.”

Mike’s about to argue with Richie, but then he thinks of the short story Bill wrote, still folded up in the back of Mike’s drawer. He thinks of Bill being so excited to show Mike the story he ditched school without a second thought. 

Bill, sitting in the dark, chilly barn with Mike and being inspired. And sharing that inspiration with no one else but Mike. 

Two friends, braced against a mysterious evil. Scared, but invincible, as long as they had each other. 

Oh. _Oh._

“I think he already has,” Mike says quietly as the realization dawns on him. 

And Mike feels warm and his heart feels like it might burst from his chest, because Bill _did_ write that story because of Mike. Not because of the barn or the wind or the nightmare. But because of _Mike._

Mike hadn’t considered that Bill loved him. He hadn’t _wanted_ to consider it because he didn’t want to be hurt if it turned out to not be true. But now he can’t _stop_ considering it. 

_Bill loves me_ , ringing over and over again in Mike’s mind. _Bill loves me._

“See!” Richie cries. “You guys are just as gross!”

“Huh,” Mike says to himself. “I guess so.”

Richie doesn’t say anything for a moment. He, amazingly, just lets Mike have this moment to himself. Then he smiles at Mike softly.

“You know something?” Richie says. “You and Bill make sense. It’s like you guys are supposed to be together or something.”

“I could say the same thing about you and Eddie,” Mike says. Because, in a strange sort of way, Richie and Eddie do make perfect sense. 

Richie giggles. He sounds so young and happy it makes Mike laugh, too. They collapse onto their backs again, staring up at the white, fluffy clouds in the bright blue sky.

“You know tomorrow’s the last day of school, right?” Richie asks.

Mike nods. “Yeah, me and my granddad have to drop off my last packet and stuff.”

“Ask your granddad if you can come with us after you guys are done,” Richie says. “We’re hanging out at the clubhouse, and you need to be there, too.”

“You mean I need to see _Bill,_ ” Mike says, and the butterflies start fluttering in his stomach at the thought.

“Yep,” Richie, “so you guys can, you know, _get to it._ ”

Richie winks and Mike just shuts his eyes. He wonders if it’s possible to actually be embarrassed to death.

“Oh my God, Richie,” Mike mutters. “But, okay. Yeah, I’ll ask him.”

“Good. Because it’s not right if you’re not there. We miss you.” 

Mike sighs and opens his eyes. It feels nice to know he’s missed. That he’s loved.


	10. Chapter 10

Bill can never focus on the last day of school. 

It’s always felt unnecessary. Why do they need to go through the motions of the last day, of walking from period to period just to listen to the teachers remind them about summer reading and test scores and report cards? There’s not one student that cares. They’re all just antsy, ready to be free. 

Bill can hardly sit still the entire day.

He spends the entire day fidgeting, his legs jumping and his fingers drumming against the desks. Bill feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin by sixth period’s end. 

He’s ready to _go._ Bill’s been ready to go since he first walked through the door. 

Bill woke up with his mind made up: he’s going to talk to Mike, even if his nerves kill him. _Be brave._ Bill carried the words with him all night Saturday, all day and night Sunday. Even if the worst happens and everything falls into ruin, it’s better to tell Mike the truth. Mike deserves the truth. The sooner Bill can get out of here and talk to Mike, the better. 

There’s nothing else in this school building for him. Bill has no space in his mind for whatever last-minute lectures or yarns or whatever else is going on around him. All Bill can think of is the long summer days ahead, hours unwinding themselves to shape into whatever Bill needs. 

Bill needs to spend them with Mike. 

At the end of the day, when the last bell _finally_ rings, Bill rushes down the hall, moving past meandering students. He walks and walks until Richie’s long arm appears out of nowhere and wraps itself around Bill’s shoulders.

“There you are, Billy Boy!” Richie cries as he crushes Bill to his side.

“H-hey, Rich,” Bill says breathlessly. “You’re in a g-good mood, huh?”

“Hell yeah, I am! We’re free of this hellhole!” Richie grins, slick and mischievous. “Now, let’s go do something stupid!”

Bill peers around Richie to see Bev, also tucked neatly against Richie’s side. She rolls her eyes but smiles.

“We’re _always_ doing something stupid thanks to you!” Bev says fondly. 

Richie laughs and squeezes them both tightly.

“Well, let’s do so _more_ stupid shit! We can do whatever we want!”

Bill catches Bev’s eye again. She smirks and waggles her eyebrows at him. 

“Yep, we sure can.” 

Bill, excited and anxious, nods, and he lets Richie guide him through the halls.

###

Mike feels oddly calm as he bikes to the clubhouse.

He feels like he should be anxious or at least a little bit nervous. He hasn’t seen Bill for days, and their last meeting wasn’t a particularly good one. But Mike feels strangely peaceful as he bikes through the woods. Peaceful, and confident. 

It’s quiet out here. The sun is warm and the wind is gentle on his skin. For a moment, it feels like the whole world has softened around Mike. 

Mike feels like he’s going to be okay. He _knows_ he’s going to be okay.

Mike pulls up to the clubhouse, smiling at the bikes strewn across the ground. From below him, he hears a loud laugh and a shout. Mike snorts; only the Losers could be loud enough to be heard from underground. 

Mike yanks the door up and peers down to see Stan yelling at Richie.

“Have you heard considered _not_ being ridiculous?” Stan is saying, but he’s barely keeping the smile off of his face.

“ _Ridiculous_ is the only way he knows how to be!” Mike yells down. 

Stan looks up and beams. “Mike, you’re here!”

Mike hears his own shouted in a chorus of the Losers’ voices as he climbs down in the clubhouse. Before he even fully turns around, Mike’s being smothered by a group bear hug. He finds himself squished against Stan and Eddie, his face somehow pressed against Ben, his fingers grazing the bottom of Bev’s right shoulder blade. 

Mike laughs into Ben’s shoulder. He’s missed his friends.

When Mike is finally released, he looks over Ben’s shoulder and sees Bill. Bill stands there watching Mike with wide eyes. Then, a slow, shy smile.

Mike’s heart skips a beat, and then another.

###

Bill needs to figure out how to get rid of the rest of his friends.

Bill loves the Losers, he really, _really_ does. And he’s having fun! But it’s been a couple of hours now, Bill’s nerves are already shot, and he’s barely been able to maintain eye contact with Mike, let alone talk to him _privately._

Mike keeps looking over to Bill, too; Bill catches Mike’s eye every now and then. He looks _happy_ to see Bill. Not angry or frustrated or annoyed. Just _happy._ And that only makes Bill more eager to figure out how to sneak away from the group. But every time Bill looks up, he sees Stan or Ben in Mike’s face, and it’s starting to drive Bill up the wall. 

Like now: Bill watches as Ben drapes an arm on Mike’s shoulder and leans on him just to ask him about whether he’s going to be homeschooled next year.

“Yeah, probably,” Mike answers with a shrug. “It’d be weird to not be homeschooled for my last year of school, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Ben says. “But then you could actually spend senior year _with_ us, and we won’t have to worry about you disappearing anymore.”

A big wave of guilt hits Bill, but Mike laughs.

“I promise I’m not gonna disappear anymore,” Mike says. “I’ll be around.”

Mike glances over to Bill again, and Bill’s face goes hot. He _really_ hopes he’s not turning red. 

“Good,” Bev says, and she glances at Bill, too, before smiling at Mike. “Because we need someone to balance us out.” 

“ _Hey!_ ” Richie says as he stretches out on the ground. “I think that I am _very_ balanced.”

Eddie glares down at Richie from his perch in the hammock and scoffs loudly.

“What? You are the _least_ fucking ‘balanced’ person in the fucking world,” Eddie says. “There are people who spend a shit-ton of years in school to figure out what’s wrong with people like you _._ ” 

“Well, I mean, I _am_ fascinating, aren’t I?” Richie says with a smirk. 

“‘Fascinating’ is _not_ what you are,” Eddie grumbles. “You are everything _but_ ‘fascinating.’”

Richie snorts, then reaches up and cups Eddie’s chin.

“It’s okay if you wanna admit that you think I’m awesome,” Richie says teasingly. “You don’t have to hide it.”

Eddie turns tomato red, and Bill can almost _see_ the string of cuss words that are about to erupt from his mouth.

“Oh, here we go,” Stan mutters.

Bev and Ben both groan, earning an offended squawk from Eddie. Bill looks over to Mike just to see his reaction and is surprised to see Mike watching Eddie and Richie with a soft, affectionate stare. Bill watches as Mike’s face slowly changes. Mike blinks, his nostrils flare, he looks down at the ground. One eyebrow quirks and Mike’s face begins to light up. 

Then, he stands up.

“Hey, um, I gotta go,” Mike says to them. “I told my granddad I’d be home by a certain time.”

Bev, Stan and Ben make noises of protests, their voices overlapping. Mike looks at Bill. It’s such a quick look that Bill almost thinks he’s imagined it.

But he hasn’t. And Bill knows a signal when he sees one. 

“Hey, um, I’ll r-r-ride home with you,” Bill says. “So you won’t have to g-g-go alone.”

“That’s a good idea,” Eddie says. “There’s too much shit lurking around outside to be going alone.”

Bill, surprised, looks at Eddie. Richie is _still_ cupping his face, but Eddie seems much less bothered by it now. 

“Yeah, r-right,” Bill says. He’s not one to complain about having backup.

Mike laughs. He sounds nervous.

“Okay,” Mike says, “okay, thanks.” He looks at all of the other Losers. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

“See us _tomorrow_ ,” Bev says, and Bill tries to ignore the look she tosses his way. 

“Yeah okay,” Mike says. Then he beckons to Bill.

Bill follows Mike out of the clubhouse, his stomach in knots. 

###

Mike and Bill walk slowly, the sound of their bikes moving beside them ringing in Mike’s ears. It’s quiet around them. The sun is starting to set in the sky, creating a smattering of orange, purple and blue. It’s a peaceful day, but Mike honestly feels like he might burst at any second. The calm he felt earlier is suddenly replaced with giddiness and anticipation.

He has a thousand things he wants to say. He just needs to _say_ them.

Bill’s arm presses against Mike’s as they walk, his skin hot against Mike’s. Mike feels like his brain is frying. 

_Jeez._

Okay. Mike needs to get his nerve up. It’s Bill. Mike might be head over heels for him and hasn’t seen him in days, but it’s still _Bill_ , who Mike’s always been able to talk to. He can do this. Mike can do this.

“Um, M-Mike?” Bill says. 

Shit, why is Bill talking first? It’s throwing Mike all the way off. 

“Yeah?”

“I, um . . .” 

Bill slows to a stop and looks at the ground. Then he takes a deep breath and looks Mike in the eye. 

“I need to a-a-apologize to y-y-you. For pushing you away like that, telling you that we sh-shouldn’t be around each other,” Bill glances down, but looks back up at Mike again. “It was stupid of me, and I ended up doing the thing I was s-sc- _scared_ of doing. I ended up hurting you. And I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

Mike stares at Bill. Of all the things Mike expected, an apology wasn’t one of them. The hurt flares up, a tiny flame burning in the pit of his stomach. 

“Yeah,” Mike says. “You _did_ hurt me, Bill. You hurt my feelings.”

“I know, and I’m sorry!” Bill says hastily. Bill frowns, and Mike can see him gripping Silver’s handlebars tighter. “I get it if you d-don’t for-forgive me.”

“But I _do_ forgive you, though, Bill!” Mike says. He laughs, and he’s not entirely sure why. “I’m not mad or anything like that, anymore. I’ve missed you.”

Bill smiles, small and shy. 

“I missed you, too. And, I’ve, um, I’ve been thinking about why I did that. Why I _really_ did that.”

The word sends a bolt of fear through Mike. The worst case scenario is still kicking around in the back of Mike’s mind. _He doesn’t love you, he doesn’t love you, he doesn’t love you._

But Mike knows he doesn’t need to listen to it. 

“Yeah?”

Bill nods. “Y-yeah. It wasn’t—the dreams, they weren’t what I’d th-thought. They were—I was having them because I was _scared._ I was scared of . . .”

Bill’s voice trails off, and he starts to blink at Mike. Mike feels like they’re standing at the edge of a cliff, peering over the edge, too afraid to throw themselves over. 

“Scared of me?” Mike says, a little pushy, more than a little eager. “Of . . . of _us?_ ”

There’s a second where Bill says nothing. He just looks at Mike with quiet shock. Mike forgets how to breathe for that second, and he feels light-headed and terrified and thrilled. 

“Kinda,” Bill says, his voice almost a whisper. “You, and how I feel about you. And that you might not f-feel the same way.”

Mike had hoped he would hear these words. He’d _imagined_ hearing these words. But, somehow, he still wasn’t fully prepared to hear them. 

“How you feel about me?”

Mike barely hears himself ask the question, but Bill hears him all the same. Bill’s fingers twitch on top of Silver’s handlebar, but Bill still smiles at Mike.

Bill nods. Then he laughs and ducks his head.

“I should be better at this,” Bill mumbles before lifting his head and looking at Mike. “I’m supposed to know how to stay this stuff. But Mike—you make me feel different than anyone else ever has. And I think about th-that—about y- _you_ all the time. And I don’t know, I think t-t- _that’s_ what I was so scared of, I was s-scared of feeling like this and then losing you, because I don’t know wh-what I’d do if I, if _you_ —”

Mike lets the words out.

“Bill. I love you.” 

It almost feels rude, an abrupt interruption. Rude, but incredibly necessary. 

“I’m _in_ love with you,” Mike continues. “Like, seriously.” 

Bill stares at Mike, wide-eyed, slack jaw. He blinks, and Mike can see the pieces falling into place in Bill’s mind.

Then, Silver clatters to the ground at Mike’s feet. And Bill’s whole body is on Mike’s. 

“ _I love you, too.”_ Bill says breathlessly, like the words will escape him if he doesn’t say it _right now._

And then Bill’s arms are around Mike’s neck, Mike’s arms are around Bill’s waist, and Bill’s kissing Mike. He kisses Mike so hard Mike thinks they might fall over.

And it’s a goofy, hot mess of a kiss, because they both start laughing part-way through, and if they try to move they’ll end up tripping over their bikes. 

But still, they kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss as the summer sky and air begins shifting around them.

###

Twilight descends on them as Bill and Mike finally ride to the farmhouse. 

It takes them forever; they keep stopping to kiss, to laugh, to let their fingers graze over each other’s skin. Above them, the streetlights slowly blink to life, shining bright light on them as they go.

Bill worries Mike might get an earful for coming home so late. Mike just smiles and kisses Bill softly on the lips for the hundredth time. 

“It’s worth it.”

###

Mike expects Leroy to be waiting for him when he walks inside. He expects to hear the lecture, the “I’ve told you to be home before the streetlights come on, boy,” he’s heard more than a few times in the past couple of years. Mike fully expects to be fussed at.

He does _not_ expect to hear yelling. 

Mike hears the arguing as he puts his bike away. His heart pounds, and he begins to tremble with nervous energy as he walks through the back door. He follows the sound to the living room. As he walks into the room, he sees Leroy, looking stressed as he stands between Howard and Phillip. Howard and Phillip are arguing, looking and sounding so furious they don’t even notice Mike walking into the room. 

“Watch your mouth, Howard!” Leroy says sternly.

Howard scoffs, a harsh sound. 

“Watch my mouth?” Howard retorts. “Oh, please! You only saying that because you don’t wanna hear the truth about your damn grandson. You _refuse_ to admit that something’s wrong with that boy!”

Oh. Of course, it’s about Mike.

“You mean like how you _refuse_ to admit that Mike’s life isn’t any of your got damn business?” Phillip demands. 

“Phillip, please,” Leroy says, and he puts his hand on Phillip’s shoulder.

“No!” Phillip yells. “No, I’m sick of him! What’s your problem, Howard? Why are you in nephew’s business so damn much? You ain’t got shit else to do?”

Howard steps closer, ignoring Leroy’s outstretched arm. 

“Why are you treating me like _I’m_ the problem here, Phillip?” 

“Because you _are_ the problem!” Phillip’s face contorts in a way Mike’s never seen before. “You’ve _been_ the problem!” 

Mike’s chest is going tight, and he feels like his head is splitting open. He’s had enough.

“I guess _I’m_ the problem!”

Mike’s loud voice shocks all three of them, and they all whip around and stare at Mike. Phillip looks guilty and Leroy looks saddened. Howard, however, glares at Mike viciously. 

Mike stares back at them. It’s time to end this madness. 

“You guys are talking about me,” Mike continues defiantly, “so I guess _I’m_ the problem, right?”

“No!” Leroy says, cutting his eyes at Howard for a second. “You’re not, there’s no problem. Your uncles just aren’t getting along very well tonight.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Howard grumbles and he rolls his eyes at Leroy’s hard stare. “There you go _babying_ him again. This is ridiculous!” 

“You got something to say to me, Howard?” Mike demands. “Something you wanna ask me? Because I’m right here. I’ll answer any and every question you have.”

“That’s not necessary,” Leroy says. “Let’s just get ourselves together and leave this alone.”

Howard laughs cruelly. “No, apparently it _is._ I guess you gotta hear it from the horse’s mouth, Pops.”

Mike didn’t think he’d have this conversation with his granddad so soon. Mike was beginning to think he’d _never_ have this conversation with his granddad. But now, here it is, happening faster and more painfully than he’d ever wanted. 

Mike’s so unbelievably scared. But he looks Howard right in the eye and stands up straighter. 

“Ask me,” Mike challenges. “Go ahead, ask me.”

Howard scoffs, and crosses his arms.

“Alright then. Mike, _are you gay?_ Be honest.”

Mike takes a deep breath.

“Yes. I am. I’m gay.” 

Mike doesn’t turn around to look at Leroy or Phillip. He doesn’t have to; he can feel them both staring at him. 

Howard continues, “And are you messing around with your little _friend_ Bill?” 

Howard turns his nose up in disgust as he spits out the word “friend.” Mike bites the inside of his jaw, praying that he doesn’t say or do something he’ll regret later.

“I love him,” Mike answers. “I love him very, very much.”

The room goes dead silent. Mike can hardly breathe now, the air is so thick. 

Howard turns to Leroy. “So. You got something to say _now?_ ” 

Mike finally looks at his grandfather again. Leroy watches him back as if he’s seeing Mike for the first time in his life. But he says nothing. 

Howards sighs heavily, clearly frustrated.

“Wow, okay,” Howard says. “You’re just fine with _this_ in your house? You don’t have _anything_ to say?”

Leroy keeps staring at Mike, his eyes never leaving Mike’s face. Tears start to sting in Mike’s eyes as he watches his grandfather say nothing. 

“Huh,” Howard says, his voice full of contempt. “I’ll guess you’ll say something when he fucks around and ends up dying of AIDS.”

Phillip reaches past Leroy and punches Howard in the face.

“ _Phillip!”_ Leroy cries, but Phillip pushes past him and hits Howard again.

And Mike scrambles to help separate them, wrapping his arms around Phillip while Leroy grabs onto Howard. Mike pushes Phillip back, holding him tighter when he tries to pull out of Mike’s grasp.

“ _Fuck you,_ you pathetic, hateful rat!” Phillip shouts. “You ain’t shit!”

Blood pours out of Howard’s nose and covers his lips. Howard can’t say anything back even if he wanted to.

“Phillip, _please stop!_ ” Mike begs. “Calm down!” 

Phillip finally stops trying to pull away from Mike and he goes limp in Mike’s arms. Mike reluctantly lets him go.

“Phillip,” Leroy says, his voice dark and heavy. “Go home. _Now._ ”

Mike looks at Phillip in a panic. Phillip just sighs. He sounds tired. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to Mike. Then he walks around Mike and leaves, letting the front door slam behind him. 

Mike doesn’t turn around to face Howard and Leroy again. He doesn’t want to see either of their faces. 

“Mike,” Leroy says. “ _Michael._ ”

Mike leaves the living room and runs up the stairs. He goes into his bedroom and locks the door. 

Mike collapses on the bed and closes his eyes, squeezing them tight. And he cries. 

###

Bill’s phone rings in the dead of night.

Bill sits upright and answers it immediately. He already knows who it is. 

“Bill?” Mike’s crying, and he sounds _small_ , and it makes Bill’s heart hurt. “Can you come over?”

Bill’s already out of bed, struggling to put his shoes on when he answers.

“Yeah, y-yeah. I’m on my w-way.”

###

The air in the barn is warm tonight.

Bill holds Mike as closely as he can while Mike tells him what happened. The soft orange casts its glow on Mike’s wet eyes as he repeats his uncle’s horrid words.

Bill is so angry he’s seeing red. He wants to yell, he wants to break things, he wants to get in Howard’s face on Mike’s behalf. 

But Mike doesn’t need that right now. 

So, Bill gently wipes at Mike’s tears and presses soft kisses to the corner of Mike’s lips. He murmurs “It’s okay,” and “I love you” over and over again, until the words run into a jumbled declaration of love. 

Mike sniffles and smiles weakly.

“You know, I might end up on your doorstep tomorrow,” Mike says, “depending on what my granddad says in the morning.”

“You can come with me right now,” Bill says, and he means every word of it. “We could just leave.”

Mike laughs, but he sounds so sad it makes Bill want to cry.

“I’d have to face him eventually,” Mike says. “I just need you to be, you know, be around. Just in case.”

Bill pulls Mike even closer. He’ll never leave Mike again. 

“Of course. I’ll al-always be around. I love you.”

Mike kisses Bill. It’s the most chaste kiss yet, a soft brush of their lips. But Bill still feels like he’s been set aflame.

“I love you, too.” 

And they hold each other close until the sun begins to creep over the horizon again. 

###

Mike watches Bill go, feeling more regretful as the distance between them grows. He stands at the edge of their property for what feels like an eternity. Then, he sighs and walks back into the house.

It’s 6 a.m. The sun is barely in the sky. But Mike knows Leroy’s up.

Mike walks in through the back door, closing it quietly behind him. He walks through the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, fearing the sight of Leroy. Finally, Mike peers through the front door’s windows and sees Leroy sitting in one of the chairs on the porch. 

Mike’s heart stops, but he pushes himself towards the front door, anyway. He needs to get this over with. 

Mike walks out onto the porch and sits down in the chair next to Leroy. 

Several long moments pass in silence. Then Leroy clears his throat.

“I was waiting for you to come down,” Leroy says. “I knew there was no way you slept through the night. Or at all, really.”

Mike glances over to Leroy and nods stiffly.

“No, I didn’t sleep,” Mike says. “I just . . . you know.” 

They’re quiet again. Mike is feeling more and more anxious with every silent second that passes. 

Leroy shifts in his chair and sighs. 

“So,” Leroy says. “You and Bill.”

Mike’s stomach drops. He nods.

“Yes sir. Me and Bill.”

Leroy doesn’t look at Mike; he’s staring out to the space in front of them, his eyes bouncing up and down from the gravel driveway to the horizon. Leroy’s jaw twitches and his brow furrows. Mike tenses, trying to steel himself for whatever is coming. 

Leroy nods his head and shrugs.

“That makes sense,” he says. “You and Bill seem like a good fit.”

Mike turns around and looks at Leroy directly.

“Sir?”

Leroy looks Mike in the eye and chuckles very quietly.

“You know, for a second there I thought it might’ve been Richie,” Leroy says. “Now _that_ would’ve been a little concerning.” 

“You thought . . .” Mike, baffled, shakes his head. “Wait. So . . . you already knew about me?”

“I . . . suspected,” Leroy says. “I kind of noticed some things about you. And Bill, I suppose. But I couldn’t be sure, and I honestly didn’t know how to bring it up to you. I didn’t think you’d want to talk too much about it. I suppose I was hoping you’d tell me one day.”

Mike stares at his grandfather. There’s a part of Mike that’s refusing to believe this is real, that’s afraid to believe that Mike’s grandfather _knew_ and is _accepting_ him.

“I didn’t feel like I _could_ ,” Mike says. “I didn’t think you’d . . . I thought it would change how you felt about me.”

Leroy sighs, and he looks at Mike with a soft, sad smile.

“Michael, you’d have to do a lot worse than _this_ to change the way I feel about you,” Leroy says. “I love you, and that ain’t going anywhere anytime soon. I just hate that you felt like you couldn’t tell me something _this_ important.”

Mike thinks of Phillip and Howard, and his heart sinks.

“I mean, you could’ve been like Howard,” Mike says. “ _A lot_ of people are. It feels like most people are, sometimes.”

Leroy’s face falls into an angry frown at the mention of his son’s name.

“Those people have their own issues they need to work out,” Leroy says. “And that includes your uncle Howard. No one has any right to try to push their beliefs on you or make you feel bad for being who you are.”

“They sure are good at it, though,” Mike says. “Howard _works_ at it.” 

“I know,” Leroy says darkly. “But you don’t have to worry about Howard for a while. I told him he can’t come around here until he’s ready to act like he’s got some damn sense and apologize to you.”

“Really?” Mike says hesitantly. He frowns. “What if he never wants to apologize?”

Leroy shrugs. “Then we’ll have to find a new farmhand. We’ll have to move on without him.”

Mike sits there, stunned. And so, so grateful. 

“Thank you,” Mike says quietly. 

Leroy smiles down at Mike.

“You’re a good man, grandson, and I love you. _Nothing_ changes that, you hear me? Nothing.”

Mike nods, his face and eyes burning from the tears that threaten to spill over. Leroy smiles and clasps Mike on the shoulder. 

They sit on the porch in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher and higher in the sky. 

###

Bill’s home and has Silver stored away by the time his father comes lumbering down the stairs.

Bill watches as Zack moves past him into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. 

“M-morning, Dad,” Bill says.

Zack glances back at Bill and snorts.

“You still speak? Huh. I was starting to think you’d taken a vow of silence.” 

Bill blinks. His father noticing his silence is the most interest either of his parents have shown in him in a _long_ time. 

“Just didn’t f-f-feel like talking, I guess,” Bill says. 

“Yeah, son, I get that,” Zack mumbles. 

There’s no way in this world either of Bill’s parents will ever really “get” anything about him. Maybe they did a long time ago, but not now. 

But for the first time in forever, Bill doesn’t care. Bill’s not even worried about it anymore.

Bill starts up the stairs. When he’s halfway up the staircase, Zack makes a soft sound of surprise.

“You seem different, you know?” he calls after Bill. “I can’t put my finger on what it is.”

Bill stops and glances back at his father. He shrugs.

“I feel different.” 

Zack hums quietly and goes back to his coffee. Bill continues up the stairs to his room, thinking of Mike the whole way up. 

###

Bill’s phone rings. He snatches it off of the receiver on the first ring.

“M-Mike? Are you good?”

“Yeah,” Mike answers, and he sounds happy. “I’m good.”

Bill’s heart feels full at the sound of Mike’s smile. 

“Good. I’m really, really gl-glad, Mike.”

Mike sounds soft and warm as he laughs.

“Me, too.”

###

Their chores are light today, just a little bit of yard work and stable cleaning. Mike suspects they’re supposed to be doing more, but Leroy’s going easy on them. They are a man short, after all. 

Not that Mike minds all that much. 

Phillip’s quiet for the most of the day. Mike watches him as he works with his head down and his jaw tense. Mike waits until Leroy’s out of earshot before he gently nudges Phillip in the side.

“It went well. This morning, I mean,” Mike says.

Phillip looks up at Mike with a hesitant, but hopeful look.

“Really?”

Mike nods and Phillip visibly relaxes. Mike looks at his uncle and thinks about how heavy a life-long secret is.

“I think you should tell him, too,” Mike says. “I think it’ll be okay.”

Mike can see the fear in Phillip's eyes as he looks at Mike. But then, it starts to fade, little by little. 

“I don’t know,” Phillip says. “Maybe.”

Mike smiles at Phillip. “Maybe” is good for now. 

###

Bill fetches Mike early in the morning.

Mike bounds down the stairs and out of the door, and hops on the back of Silver with a childish giggle. 

“I can’t believe you’re such an early-riser now,” Mike says as he wraps his arms around Bill’s waist.

“It’s y-your fault,” Bill says with a grin, “but I kinda l-like it.”

They ride to the quarry, relishing the feeling of the morning sun against their bodies. When they arrive, they sit at the edge of the cliff and stare out at the water.

“You know,” Bill says softly, “One of my n-nightmares was us being here.”

“Really?” Mike asks. “What happened?”

Bill’s fingers twitch on the ground. Mike takes his hand and squeezes.

“The water was r-rising,” Bill says. “Getting way too high. And I was holding onto you, but you were telling me to let you go. I didn’t want to. I _really_ didn’t want to, but . . .” 

Mike doesn’t say anything, and his hand goes still on top of Bill’s. Suddenly, his hand is gone, and he’s standing up. Bill panics before he realizes Mike is taking off his shirt and pants.

Mike looks at Bill expectantly. It takes Bill a second, but he gets the memo, and he stands up to take his shirt and pants off, too. 

“Dream me _clearly_ didn’t know what he was talking about,” Mike says. “Because I don’t ever want you to let me go.”

Mike reaches his hand out to Bill. Bill takes it gratefully, lacing his fingers with Mike’s. 

“Then I never will,” Bill swears.

Mike smiles, blinding-white and wide. Bill pulls him forward and kisses him deep. One of them, or maybe both of them, mutters “I love you” against the other’s lips. 

And they jump off the cliff together, holding each other tight as they sail through the air and crash into the water below. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done!! I hope y'all have enjoyed this read! Let me know what you think. And don't forget to punch your local homophobe ☺


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